Hair In Her Eyes
by Harriet Vane
Summary: An old acquaintance of Benny’s with a grudge comes to Chicago at the same time as Inspector Thatcher’s family.
1. Prolog

This happens (as all the good stories do) between _All the Queen's Horses_ and Burning _Down the House_. The guy Garret is the guy from _Heaven and Earth_, and the more I think about it the more I think he's really useless in this story. But, anyways, I'm not going to change it because I wrote this story four years ago and just recently found it, ran a quick spell check, and, well, here it is. So, if you're disgusted with the spelling and grammar or whatever, I'm sorry . . . but you should have seen it _before_ the spell check.

Gold

Prolog–

She was walking down the street with determination. She was heading somewhere, and she felt she had to get there very quickly. She was carrying something, something big, something important. She kept glancing behind her, as if someone was following, but she didn't brake into a run.

__

Flash

Big hands, huge hands grabbed her neck; flew over he mouth, but not until she let out a scream, "Fraser!"

__

Flash

Her dark hair was in her eyes. She couldn't push it away. Her hands were tied and she was gagged. But She was watching, absorbing, everything. He could see it in her eyes.

__

Flash

Garret opened his eyes. "Fraser?" he muttered to himself. For some reason, that name sounded familiar. Suddenly it clicked. "Fraser." he said again, with more determination. He pushed himself off of the stoop he had been sleeping on and started heading towards Chicago's 27 precinct station house.


	2. One

"No Ray, I don't mean to imply that I dislike you sister, or that I don't enjoy her conversation. Quite the contrary, Francesca is a kind, intelligent, beautiful young woman."

"But . . ." Ray prompted as he lead the Mountie though the bullpen.

"I simply can not take two weeks off work to escort her on a cruise through the Caribbean."

"Thatcher, huh?" Ray asked with a sly smile as he looked back at his friend.

Fraser was trying not to react to the detective's comments, which meant he kept an almost comic straight face, looking straight ahead. As a consequence of this emotional squelching he forgot about the waist can next to Ray's desk. He tripped over the thing and nearly fell on top of Elaine as she walked by.

"Hay, Fraser." She said, laughing lightly. "You Ok?"

"Yes." He said curtly. All his mock composer had been lost when he tripped and the pure terror that he has been compressing showed on his face. Ray watched, very amused. "Yes, I'm sorry."

"What for?" Elaine asked, confused.

Fraser glanced at Ray, begging for help. None was offered. "Tripping." He finally said.

"Sure, Fraser." Elaine said nodding slowly. "Any time."

"Can we help you, Elaine?" Ray asked, trying very hard not to laugh out loud.

"Uh, there's a guy here to see you Ray. He says he knows you." She pointed to a man standing nervously in the doorway to the squad room. He was wearing a coat that was heavy for the weather, which was chilly but not sub-zero yet. Both Ray and Benny looked at him curiously, without recognition until Fraser caught a whiff of him. "Garret." The Mountie said out of the blue.

"Who?" Ray asked.

"The homeless man who assisted us in finding Miss Madison last year."

"The Psycho?"

"Perhaps the word you're looking for is Psychic."

"Sure," Ray said shrugging his shoulders, "If you think so."

"Hello Mr. Garret." Fraser said smiling broadly, He offered his hand to the homeless man, who reached out and took it.

__

Flash

She walked into the room. Fraser's heartbeat doubled, either from fear or elation or an odd combination of both.

__

Flash

"Mr. Garret," Fraser's voice cut through the vision. "Are you alright?"

The homeless man blinked a few times and re-oriented himself with his surroundings. Once done, he turned to Fraser, there was an intensity in his eyes that frightened the Mountie. But what he said frightened him more. "She needs you. She's depending on you. If you don't come, she'll die!"

***

Fraser and Garret were sitting in interview one. The Neon lights and the mint green walls created a tint that was supposed to be calming but in actuality was more garish. If you were looking through the tinted two way mirror, as Ray was, the effect was even more bizarre.

Fraser had wanted to question Garret alone. Ray could understand that. When you mixed Fraser with girls the oddest things happened, situations became complicated and more often than not embarrassing for someone. Ray would Respect Benny's reasonable request for privacy, to a point. There was also this matter of a murder. As a cop Ray had a responsibility to protect whoever this victim was, and to do that he needed all the information he could get. Elaine had given him a nasty look as he walked into interview two and turned the lights out, but for all he knew she could be the murder victim. He didn't let a glare stop him.

In the interview room Benny was leaning over the table. He looked composed but Ray could tell that he was very nervous. "What did you see?" He asked gently.

"Someone was following her. It was late. She was walking outside, carrying something that was big."

"Do you know what she was carrying?"

"No, it's too dark. But she was looking over her shoulder. Then a big pair of hands grabbed her. She screamed you're name. Then she was tied up, by a tree, and she was watching something, the kidnappers."

"Can you see where she is?"

He shook his head. "You're afraid of her though. I saw her walk into a room and you were afraid."

"Great," Ray mused quietly, "That narrows it down to every girl he's ever met."

"Afraid?"

"Nervous."

"Nervous?"

"Like you were afraid of what she was going to do, and then what you were going to do back." The man paused. "You care about her a lot, I can feel that. She trust you, you can't let her down."

Ben licked his lips and leaned in further "Can you describe this woman?"

"Dark hair, it was in her eyes."

"What color were her eyes?"

"I don't know, they were in the shadows."

"Do you know how tall she was?"

"No."

"If you saw her would you recognize her?"

"Yes."

Fraser nodded. "But you can't describe her beyond dark hair."

"The harder I try to see her, the vaguer her features get."

Fraser stared at the ceiling for a second. He seemed to be focusing on one ceiling tile, as if adding up the holes in it would give him the answer to his problem. It didn't.

"She trust you, she depends on you. You have to be there for her." Garret was desperate. He may not have known this woman, but he felt her pain, acutely.

That's when Elaine poked her head in. "Call for you Fraser," she said softly, as if she didn't want to disturb the heavy mood in the room. "It's the consulate."

Fraser nodded, "Thank you Elaine. I'll be out presently." He stood up but before he left the room he turned to Garret. "If you see anything more . . ."

"I'll try." Garret promised. 

Fraser nodded again and walked out of the room with determination. Ray scooted out of the observation room and had to jog to catch up to the Mountie's quick pace. "You know who it is?" Ray asked.

"The consulate." Fraser replied matter-of-factly.

"No, not who's on the phone. Who the girl is? You know the one who scares you with the brown hair and the tied wrist."

Fraser glared at his friend with contempt that didn't even go skin deep. "You were listening."

"As a cop I have a responsibility to the victim."

Fraser nodded, knowing full well that it was not civic responsibility that lead his good friend to ease droop as much as it was curiosity. "And?"

"I got a list."

"List?"

"Do you want to hear it?"

They had reached the detective's desk and, without responding to his friend's question, Fraser picked up the phone. "This is Constable Fraser." He said with measured voice. He listened to whoever was on the other end of the line. "I see." He clipped after what seemed like an unusually long time. "Yes, I quite agree. Inform the Inspector that I'll be there presently." He paused, then added. "And pleas tell her that I'll be at her disposal all evening. Thank you, Turnbull." He hung up the phone and turned to Ray, who was playing with one of the toys that were hidden throughout his work space. "Could you give me a ride to the consulate?"

"Sure," Ray shrugged. "But what about our psycho?"

Benny glared at his friend, "Psychic."

"If you insist."

"Mr. Garret has given us all the information he was given. Questioning him further won't avail us. Elaine!" He called across the room. The young woman looked at him, but didn't move or say a word, silently waiting for a command. "Could you pleas tell Mr. Garret that his assistance has been most helpful and very appreciated, but something has come up and I'm afraid I had to leave." The Mountie asked as he got closer to the young woman.

"Sure, Fraser." She said.

"Also be sure to tell him that if he should happen to see anything else we would be most appreciative if he shared it."

"Yha, but why don't you tell him yourself?"

"The Dragon lady calls, Elaine." Ray supplied helpfully.

"Oh, I'm sorry." The young woman said as she walked towards interview one to carry out her assignment. 

Fraser watched her go with a curious expression. "Ray what did Elaine mean when . . ."

"Never mind, Benny." Ray said grabbing his friend's arm and dragging him out of the station house.

***

"So," Ray prompted once they were in the Riv and half way to the Consulate. "The girl."

Fraser licked his lips, but didn't say anything.

"You know who it is?" Ray asked.

"Know, no."

"What?"

"I don't know who it is."

"I was afraid of that."

"Do you know who it is?" Fraser asked, hoping against hopes that his friend would say yes.

"Like I said I've got a list."

"Let's hear it." Fraser said, shifting in his seat so he could focus fully on the detective.

Ray took a deep breath. "Franny."

Benny shook his head, smiling slightly. "It's not Francesca."

"How can you know that?" Obviously the very thought of his little sister being in that kind of situation terrified him more than if it had been himself bound and gagged.

"The last time I saw her was three days ago. At that time her bangs had just been cut and she complained that they did not cover enough of her forehead."

Ray chuckled. "She was really pissed about that."

"Garret said that the woman's hair was in her eyes. Unless you're sister's hair has grown exponentially since the last time I saw her, it's not Francesca."

"Thank God." Ray muttered. Fraser could feel his friend release all the fears for his sister, oddly it made Benny somewhat envious. He wished he could have had a bother, or sister, or someone in his life that he cared that much about, for no other reason than they existed. Relationships like that were so pure.

"Was she the only person on you're list?"

"Elaine."

"It's not Elaine. Garret said he would recognize the woman. He saw Elaine and didn't try to warn her, nor did he tell me to protect her."

Ray nodded. He looked like there was one more thing he wanted to say, but couldn't quite figure out how to say it.

"Anyone else?"

Ray licked his lips, turned and looked his good friend right in those clear blue eyes. "Victoria."

Fraser wasn't surprised, which surprised Ray, but it shouldn't have. "No," Fraser said, almost sadly. "It's not Victoria."

"Good," Ray said. Not because he didn't want Victoria to be hurt, quite the contrary, he would have prayed that the banshee be run over by a semi every Sunday at Mass if he thought that God would let him get away with it, but if Victoria was in trouble then Fraser would have to save her. Which would mean that he would have to see her, witch was something Ray hoped would never happen ever again. "How do you know?"

"Garret said that she trusted me." Fraser's voice had a sad tone in it that Ray hardly ever heard. "Victoria doesn't trust me."

Ray wanted to contend that, but didn't. In general it's a good idea not to pick at a slowly healing wound. "So who does that leave us?" Ray asked, in many way's relived that no one in his list was in any imitate danger, but frustrated that they were back to square one.

"Inspector Thatcher." Fraser said, looking out the windshield, playing his 'I don't have emotions I have honor' game that never got him anywhere.

"What?" Ray nearly yelled. "You're kidding right. This is one of those stupid jokes that you find so funny and no one else gets."

"I'm very serous, Ray. I think that the Inspector might be in real danger."

"But . . ."

"She fits all the criteria." 

One of the Criteria was that Fraser cared for the woman, but Ray was not about to point that out. Fraser had slipped, and Ray would store that information until it became relevant. "I thought you said you didn't know."

"And I don't. But I suspect it is the Inspector."

"How are you going to protect her? I mean, if it were Elaine and Franny they would just love having you hang around and keeping the bad guys away, but Thatcher . . . I don't think she'll appreciate the gesture."

"Well, naturally I'm going to tell her about the situation, and . . ."

Ray couldn't help but laugh. "Oh, I would love to hear that conversation."

"Ray," Benny said with annoyance

"No, no, what would you say, 'Hay Meg, guess what, you're gonna be kidnapped soon!'"

"Ray!"

"How do you think she'll take that? How long do you think you'll be on guard duty?"

"The Inspector is a perfectly reasonable woman."

"Reasonable in whose eyes? Reasonable people don't make their inferiors go into burning buildings to get dry cleaning."

"The Inspector didn't make me do that," Fraser tried to interject, but Ray didn't give him the chance to say much more.

"If you go into that room and ask her let you tag around because some street person told you that she'll end up bound, gagged and with hair in her eyes she's gonna have you committed before you can say Exchange Rate."

Fraser didn't say anything to refute his friends arguments, mainly because in-between the exaggerations he had caught the truth. Even if Thatcher did give credence to his warnings, she wouldn't let him protect her. 

They were silent the last two blocks, and it was only after Fraser was out of the car and about to close the door did Ray ask, "Whatch'a gonna do, Benny?"

"All I can." The Mountie said honestly.

"It could be someone else entirely, someone we forgot about, or you haven't met yet or something."

"It could be." Fraser's voice made it clear that he didn't believe it.

"Anything you need me to do?"

The Mountie thought for a split second, "Do you think you could fetch Diefenbaker?"

"Sure."

"I don't know when I'll be home, and I don't want Willy to feel he has . . ."

"Say no more, the wolf is as good as here."

"Thanks Ray." Fraser said as the Riv drove off.

To Be Continued . . . .


	3. Two

CHAPTER 2

Margaret Thatcher loved her family, as most people do. However, as a great many people do, she also dreaded them. As far as family went, her's wasn't very big, which helped immensely. One brother, so much older that she barely knew him, and two parents that were loving, in their own way, but pre-occupied. Family dinners and picnics on Sunday were not part of her experience. The entire concept of Family reunions was alien. They were four people who shared a last name, spent Christmas together and occasionally called each other, out of some odd obligation. All in all, Meg didn't see her family as defining her in any way shape or form, despite the Fact that her strong self-identity came form having a family that was made of wholly self-focused people, not selfish people, per-say. Merely self-focused.

However, William, her elder brother by twelve years, had gone on a second honeymoon with his wife gallivanting across eastern Europe and left his five, count them five, adorable children with Grandma and Grandpa Thatcher. Why, Meg would never know. Billy always had this odd sense of humor and she thought the whole thing might be some sort of great practical joke on his part. But she couldn't figure out if the joke was on; their parents, or on the poor kids. Or perhaps her.

Meg loved her parents dearly, she really did. She admired and envied her fathers diplomatic skills, and her mother's irresistible charm, she knew that in both of those areas she paled compared to them, and every time she saw them she knew that more acutely. So it was perfectly understandable that she would be about as near panic as she could get, when her parents were scheduled to arrive at Grand Central Station at Six, with five overly energetic nieces and nephews, and the only person in the consulate who she could trust not to be a total idiot was at the 27th precinct when he was supposed to be helping her.

"Is Fraser here yet?" She snapped at Turnbull as she walked past his desk.

"No ma'am he is not. He should be here any minute though. He said he would leave immediately and it takes anywhere from twelve to sixteen minutes to get here depending on . . ."

"Tell me the minute he enters that door." Thatcher interrupted. Then she pivoted and sailed back into her office were the agenda for the next three days, the entirety of their visit was waiting for her on her desk. 

Thankfully, she was in Chicago, a city that was teaming with interesting tourist attractions. There was of course the Sears tower, and the magnificent mile, those were scheduled for tomorrow. And then the art museum and a show, those were scheduled for the next day. The Toronto Blue Jay's were in town and four out of Billy's five children were boys, so she thought a base-ball game would be in order. Then . . . more shopping perhaps, a river tour, something else entirely. She didn't know. She had planed at least sixteen Chicago vacations for visiting Canadian dignitaries or triad representatives or what have you. She had done it so often that she had to occasionally wonder if she was a police officer or a travel agent. Part of that resentment had sheltered her from the worrying about how good a job she had done. If they didn't like their vacation they should have called a Travel agency not the Mounties. However she didn't have that luxury here. She knew her parents would never dare tell her she had done a poor job, but they would hint. That's the way her family worked. 

Meg's intercom buzzed. "Constable Fraser is here Ma'am." Turnbull's voice said.

"Send him in."

Two seconds later Constable Benton Fraser poked his head into Inspector Thatcher's office. "You wanted to see me sir?"

"Yes, come in." She said, all business. "Now, as you know the former Chief of international affairs form Toronto is coming in today with his family and I'm going to personally escort them around the city."

"Excuse me sir." Fraser interrupted, "Isn't the former chief of international affairs from Toronto, your father?"

Meg glared at him. Her expression seemed to say 'I would be furious at you if I thought I could get away with it'. "Yes."

"Ah," was the only response he gave.

After waiting for something more, Thatcher continued. "Obviously this is very important to me, so to insure that my family has a good visit I'm going to," she cleared her through. "To need you're help."

"Help?"

"To drive, watch over the children, that sort of thing."

"What about the consulate?"

"Fraser, how often does anything come up that Ovitz and Copper can't handle?" 

"Rarely," Fraser had to admit. They were both, more or less competent, and on a day to day basis the Canadian consulate was less than useful.

"If something does come up, naturally we'll both be on call."

"Naturally."

Meg didn't say anything more, she just looked at him, as if she were about to ask him something, and then thought better of it. Eventually Fraser prompted. "Will that be all sir?"

She took a deep breath. "No, because this is my family, I think that it would be inappropriate for me to say that I was working while escorting them around the city, so I'm taking the weekend off." Fraser nodded, encouraged by her honesty, but not sure where this was going. "As such," she continued, "I wouldn't be in a position to order you to help me in any way."

"I'm afraid I don't follow."

"Any assistance you would give me, I would consider it a personal favor, constable." She looked him straight in the eyes. Her expression wasn't harsh, or authoritative, or anything close to an expression someone nick-named, Dragon Lady should have. It was soft and open, and Fraser couldn't say no. Then she smiled at him, and he found himself, ever so slightly smiling back.

***

"There isn't enough room in the car for all of us." The inspector explained as they drove downtown in the, just after rush hour, traffic. Fraser obeyed every traffic law and every speed limit, which made him a hazard in downtown Chicago. If he hadn't been driving the consulate's car with diplomatic plates he would have been pulled over and ticketed. "My parents and I will take a cab, you'll be driving the children."

On the floor of the passenger side, Dief whimpered. Meg looked up, somewhat annoyed by the interruption, but didn't say a word. She knew Dief was there, and she had actually let him come without protest. She had very little contact with her various nephews and niece and she didn't know, but felt that she could safely assume, that one of them would be interesting in petting a half wolf sled dog. Dief, on the other hand had no interest on being the plaything of children that would pull fur, and tails and ears and try to ride him and do all sorts of other things. But Fraser had been unusually insistent, so Dief had complied. 

"Exactly how many children will there be?" Fraser asked, just a little nervous.

"Five." Meg said matter-of-factly. "Four boys and a girl. The eldest is Will, he should be about fourteen. Then Cimon, he's twelve or thirteen. Xerxes and Leo are twins, they're eight. And Elly is six, she's the girl."

"Large family." Fraser commented dryly.

"They are staying at the Hotel Inter-continental on Michigan Avenue, so after we pick them up we can drop them off there." She looked up, and caught his eyes in the rear-view mirror. "At that point, Constable, if you want to go home you can."

"I'm fully at you're disposal." Fraser said, Garret's predications always in the back of his mind.

"Thank you." She said, almost kindly. "Now, I imagine that the most my parents will want to do tonight is go out to dinner, so I have reservations at The Russian Tea Room for eight. Of course they might want to stay in, in which case, I'll need you to drive Elly and me home."

"Elly?"

"She has made it abundantly clear that she wants to spend the entire time with me." Meg sighed, and didn't say anything more. Fraser wondered if she was looking forward to, or dreading so much time with her young niece. Fraser assumed it was probably a mixture of both. 

***

Grand central station was bustling, and neither of the Mounties knew it well at all. Which meant that it took almost as much time to find the right train as it did to drive from the Consulate to the station. When they finally got to the right place, Meg's family was standing there, waiting. Her mother and father were each sitting on a bench reading a news paper, ignoring the world around them. Next to her mother sat a little girl, presumably Elly, who humming softly to herself and swinging her short legs over the edge of the bench. Near a pile of luggage two older looking boys, Will and Cimon presumably, were playing some sort of card game. And then two younger boys, who could only be Xerxes and Leo despite the fact that they looked nothing alike, were playing a rambunctious game of tag and annoying all the other people waiting for their train.

Meg took a deep breath and walked into the fray. Fraser, more than a little intimidated, stayed were he was, he knew full well that soon the fray would come to him.

"Mother, Father." She called out, just loud enough to be heard over the noise of the station.

"Auntie Meg!" The little girl practically screamed as she jumped off of the bench and ran towards the inspector. The girl hit her with such force that Fraser was afraid she would fall, but somehow Meg kept her feet and even managed to walk a few steps forward with the six year old clinging on her as if it was a matter of life and death.

"Hi Elly." Meg said, ruffling the girls strawberry blond curls. "How was you're trip?"

"Good." Elly said, her head buried in Meg's torso.

She looked up at her parents who had, by this time, put down their perspective news papers and stood to greet their daughter.

"Long," her mother said dryly. "And you're late."

"Yes," Meg said, "I apologies." She didn't offer any explanation, she didn't shift the blame or make excuses. Fraser noted that fact with interest.

"How are you Margaret?" Her father asked, leaning over Elly so he could kiss his daughter conservatively on the cheek.

"Well, and yourselves?"

"Why you're father agreed to watch the children I'll never know, I think he was drunk at the time."

"Oh, Elizabeth, you've complained about not seeing the kid's enough, and about not visiting our only daughter in her new home. How better to kill two birds with one stone."

"Not on a train, never again. You're going to refund our Train tickets and get some plane tickets."

"O'Hare is a nightmare, you remember when we where laid over there after our trip to Prague? Do you remember those people?"

"God yes," Elizabeth said, rubbing her temples, "Margaret Dear, I'm not criticizing you, but I can't see how you can stand to live here. There people . . . Now I've been all over the world and I've met all kinds of people. But Chicago seemed to take pride in the fact that this was their city, and not ours."

Meg nodded tersely, not saying anything. Fraser got the distinct impression that Chicago was not the only city she complained about. In fact he got the feeling that she complained about every city. Accordingly, Meg and her father ignored it.

"Auntie Meg, Auntie Meg!" Elly said, tugging on the inspectors arm. "I'm taking horse back ridding lessons."

"Really?" Meg said with an indulging smile.

"That way when I'm a Mountie, I'll already know how to ride a horse."

"You want to be a Mountie?" Meg sounded downright honored. Fraser watched the scene, and couldn't help but feel a little pride himself. Margaret Thatcher was the best officer he'd ever worked under, he was glad that he wasn't the only one to see how exceptional she was, even if the other person was a six year old.

"Yha, because than I can live in exciting places, and ride a horse, and if a boy tries to kiss me I'll punch him."

Meg shot a glance at Fraser. A glance that every observer thought nothing of, but a glance that Fraser understood perfectly.

"I think you would be a very good Mountie." Meg said, ruffling her niece's hair again. When she looked up her auntly smile was gone, she was all business. "Mother Father, let me introduce you to Constable Benton Fraser." She gestured towards him, but one hand was still atop Elly's head. "I've asked him to help out this weekend."

Both of Meg's parents turned on Fraser with smiles that were so big and so completely genuine that the Mountie was a little shocked. 

"Hello," her father said, shaking his hand firmly. "I'm William Thatcher and this is my wife, Elizabeth."

"I'm very pleased to meet you both." Fraser offered his own smile back to them, it wasn't as big, but it was twice as charming.

"I suppose Margaret has told you all about us." Elizabeth said she was shaking his hand now, warmly.

"No, actually she hasn't." Fraser said, with a little too much honestly. Elizabeth's smile wavered for a moment, and over her shoulder, Fraser could see one of the Inspector's undo-what-you-did-or-you'll-be-on-guard-duty-for-a-month scowls. He quickly added. "You're daughter is continually professional, you should be very proud of her."

"Oh, we are, we are." Her father sighed. By this time Meg had made it over to the conversation, Elly was still hanging on to her aunt for dear life. 

"Fraser," Her father muttered, "You wouldn't be the son of Bob Fraser would you."

"As a matter of fact I am." Fraser was surprised that He had made that connection, as far as he knew his father hadn't had a chance to meet any diplomats in his life. "Did you know my father?"

"No, no. I just keep atop the news, I'd see his name pop up in the Toronto Papers every now and again, and then that thing a few years ago with his death and all. It stuck in my mind."

Fraser nodded, smiling. Two years had gone by, in many ways he was closer to his father than ever before, he had moved to Chicago and too his great surprise found he had met the truest friend and the most wonderful woman he could imagine, and yet, Gerrard's betrayal still hurt like a fresh knife wound every time it was brought up. Of course no one knew that, and Fraser was not about to tell a sole, not Ray, not Meg, not his father.

Meg might have noticed Fraser's uneasiness about the turn in the conversation, or she might not have, but in any event, she changed the subject. "I have Reservations for you at The Russian tea room for tonight at eight. That will give you some time to be settled in the hotel room."

"Thank you Margaret," her mother said sweetly, "But I'm really much too tiered to go out tonight, I'm sure the Hotel's room service will be more than adequate,"

"Fine then," Meg said, Fraser could see that she was relived. "I'll just call . . ." She was interrupted by her cell phone ringing, right as she was reaching around Elly in her purse to get it. She looked apologetically to her parents and answered, "Hello," she frowned. "Calm down, now what is the emergency?" The onlookers interest was peaked, they all watched her like a hawk. "He's right here," she said, then she handed the phone to Fraser.

"Hello?" He asked, truly surprised that anyone would dare to call him on the inspector's line.

"Constable Fraser!" Turnbull's near panicked voice was a few decibels too loud, the Mountie was forced to remove the phone from his ears by a few centimeters. The inspector's family was watching him with interest. He suddenly felt very aware of his unfamiliarity with cell phones, he hoped he wasn't somehow misusing the machine and thereby appearing quite the fool. Had he reasoned it out, he would have realized that one cell phone is more or less like another and that you can't truly misuse them. But he was irrationally concerned about how the inspector's family perceived him. So he turned away from them for the rest of the conversation. 

"There is a man hear who claims to be named Bear Collins," Turnbull rambled on. "He also claims to have been a childhood friend of yours, and he further claims to be from Yucktiuck Flats."

"Turnbull is there any reason to believe that these claims are a lie?"

"He is very convincing sir." Turnbull said, as if the fact that he was convincing was proof that he was pulling something over the Mountie's eyes.

Fraser took a deep breath. Justin "Bear" Collins was a name from his past, one of the few parts of his past that he tried to repress. When he and his grandparents had moved on, he had said goodbye to Bear, forever he thought. But apparently Bear had other plans. Fraser tried to tell himself that there was no reason to be concerned, that Mr. Collin's just happened to be in town for some sort of business (although what a tanner would be doing in Chicago was beyond him) or perhaps for a vacation, and decided to stop by and talk to an old face. Nearly twenty years should lead a person to forgive, if not forget. "Turnbull, what does Mr. Collins want?"

"It would seem," Trunbull said suspiciously, "That he merely wants to talk to you, Sir. I believe his exact words were 'go over old times.'" Turnbull pronounced every word very carefully, as if a hidden significance was in there somewhere, and they both knew what the significance was. While Fraser wasn't looking forward to the prospect, he knew that 'going over old times' would be little more than actually discussing the events which transpired in that short time they knew each other in Yucktiuck Flats.

"Did you ask him how long he would be in town."

"He said not long, 'just long enough to finish his business.'" again, Turnbull pronounced every word as if there was some hidden meaning.

Fraser sighed. He may not have wanted to talk to Bear, but he owed him a conversation. (Truth be told, he felt he owed Bear a lot more than that, but conversation was a place to start.) "I'll be assisting Inspector Thatcher for at least an hour more, could you ask him to meet me at the café Three block's west of the consulate around ten o'clock?"

"I don't trust him sir." Turnbull said, and added quietly, "His hands are too big." 

Fraser wasn't sure how to respond to that, so he uneasily stuttered, "Thank you Turnbull."

"Be weary, sir." The line went dead.

To be continued . . .


	4. Three

CHAPTER 3

On the whole the boy's where somewhat under whelmed with Benton Fraser. It was an unusual assurance to run into people who weren't immediately fascinated by the fact that he was a Mountie. Fraser had gotten used to children asking about dog sleds and Canada and bad guys, these children, however, saw Mountie's every day. They knew all about Canada and they knew what a consulate was and how it worked. Fraser hadn't been this common for a long time, he was unsure how to handle it, fortunately he remembered being a young boy himself to know that the brother's were much more interested in each other than they were in the baby sitter. He lost no, well very little, time trying to impress them, or become their friend, that would happen naturally.

Elly had gone with her aunt and grandparents. She wanted to spend every second in Chicago with her aunt and so far was doing a good job of it. Meg had nearly had to pry the child from her legs so she could walk through the station. Still Elly wouldn't let go of the inspector's hand. Naturally, Fraser had never seen so much affection showered on his superior officer, he was very gratified to see how graciously she accepted it. All the boy's were equally affectionate in a boy way. They all kissed her on the cheek with only the slightest suggestion from their Grandmother, and none of them protested. 

"Is that the car?" Xerxes asked, pointing to the Consulate's car.

"Why yes it is, how did you know?"

"It's got Flag's on it." Leo supplied matter-of-factly.

"So it does." Fraser mused.

"It that a dog locked in there?" Cimon asked.

"A wolf actually,"

"No way," Cimon said, smiling, and picking up his pace. Leo and Xerxes followed.

"His name is Diefenbaker."

"You named you're dog after the Prime Minister?" Will asked, entirely too cool to be caught impressed by a wolf.

"I named all my dogs after prime ministers. It made them easy to remember."

"You have more dogs?" Leo asked, very excited.

"No, I had to sell them when I was transferred to Chicago." Fraser said sadly. "Apparently to have eight dogs in a two room apartment is against numerous health codes."

"So you had a dog sled then?" Cimon asked.

"Yes." Bu this time Fraser had reached the car and opened the door. 

"Shotgun!" Will called from his position still several paces behind the group.

"What?" Cimon argued. "I got here first!"

"I called it."

While the two elder brother's bickered about who got to sit in the front Leo and Xerxes crawled in the back and leaned over the seat, trying, and failing, to get Dief's attention.

"Here dog, here dog." Leo said, as Xerxes whistled.

"He's not a dog," Fraser said, leaning into the car to talk to the younger boys. "He's a wolf."

"Here wolf, here wolf." Leo amended.

"It won't work." Fraser explained. "He's deaf."

"You're wolf is deaf?" Leo asked.

"Wouldn't that make it, like, impossible for him to be a sled dog?" Xerxes added.

"You'd think so wouldn't you." Fraser said smiling mysteriously.

"Let's go." Will said, sliding into the passenger seat as his slightly younger brother got in the back. Fraser was somewhat surprised by the suddenness of the order, as well as the natural authority the boy possessed. But he saw no reason not to follow the order, so silently he complied.

"You know," Will said once they were in the thick of Chicago Traffic, trying to go from the airport downtown. "Meg's the only aunt we have."

"I wasn't aware of that."

"There's Aunt Susan, and Katrina." Cimon pointed out from the back seat.

"When was the last time you heard form them?" Will demanded, turning to Fraser he explained. "Mom had a kinda falling out with her family, so we don't really see them. So its really like Meg's our only aunt."

"Ah," Fraser said, abet lost to where this was going.

"And of course she's my dad's only sister, so he's got these hang ups about her."

"Hang ups?"

"Yha, like she's in a dangerous job, and she doesn't have a husband and all this stuff. Which I can understand because we all have hang ups about Elly."

"I don't" Xerxes interjected.

"Neither do I." Leo chimed in.

"Shut up." Will said in a casual, authoritative way that only an eldest child could posses. "Anyways, I just wanted to warn you."

"Warn me?"

"Yha, because I like you. I just thought you should know."

"I should know that you love and respect you're aunt?" Fraser had assumed that from the start and his assumptions had been confirmed when he saw them great her. 

"No, that if you're anything less than a perfect gentleman, you're in trouble." Will said it in total earnest. So seriously, in fact, that it was almost comic. Will was an average sized fourteen year old boy, no more than a hundred and twenty pounds, and he didn't look like he was much of a trained Athlete. Fraser knew that he would be able to deflect any attack this boy could mount. Further more, he must have missed the fact that 'Aunt Meg' was Fraser's superior officer, the fact was she could do a lot more damage, that would last a lot longer. That was merely professional damage, she could do worse, he knew.

Fraser tried not to smile, but the edge of his lips betrayed him. "I'll remember that." He said seriously.

"Good. We understand each other."

"That we do."

***

There was no trouble checking into the Hotel, which was right on the Magnificent Mile. Nor were there any problems for Meg's family to get settled. So by eight, the four boys were in their suite, playing video games and eating pizza, and Meg's parents were in their room, reading newspapers while CNN played in the background. And Fraser was carrying Elly's bag to where the Console's car was parked while the six-year-old told her aunt all about the other girls who took lessons at her stables.

The conversation didn't change much on the trip form the hotel to the Inspector's apartment building. Fraser learned more about the life of a six year old girl than he had ever imagined knowing, and oddly he found her perspective somewhat enlightening. She had such a defined sense of right and wrong. There was no muddled philosophy or rationalizations to cloud her conscience. Everything was black and while and he envied that.

He escorted Meg and her niece up to the Inspectors apartment, under the guise of carrying up Elly's bag. Naturally Meg, or even Elly could have done that. But Inspector Thatcher knew him well enough to know that asking him to put off his chivalrous stance was useless. She led him to her doorway, but no further.

On the way up he observed the security in the building and it seemed sufficient. There was a guard at the door, and video cameras in the elevator and stairwells. No one could leave or enter without being seen. The halls were well lit and The Inspector had several locks on her door. On top of which, Garret had seemed to believe that the assaulter was outside. Fraser still didn't feel comfortable leaving her.

"Are you sure you're not going to go out again tonight."

"Yes." Meg said tersely.

"We're going to bake Chocolate Chip cookies!" Elly said excitedly. "I'll bake one for you, and one for you're wolf."

Fraser smiled down at her, "Thank you, that's very kind, but I'm afraid that I can't give Diefenbaker chocolate. It only encourages him."

Elly didn't understand that at all. "But ours are special, just for him."

"Do you have all the ingredients for cookies?" Fraser asked, choosing not to explain Dief's particular bad habits to Elly.

"Yes." Thatcher said, she was becoming less and less amused.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"I could run to the grocery store for you."

"That is entirely unnecessary."

"It would be no trouble at all."

"Goodnight, Constable." She said, with no room in her voice for argument.

"Good, ah, night." He managed to stutter.

The door was almost closed when Meg remembered, "Fraser," she said as the door swung open again. "We'll be waiting for you downstairs at eight AM sharp."

Fraser nodded, trying not to sound disappointed. "Understood."

***

"Ray?"

"Fraser?"

"Where are you?"

"Driving home, why? Where are you?"

"At the coffee shop. Do you think you could stop by?"

"What, you in trouble? You run out of American bills again or something?"

"No Ray." Fraser said into the pay phone, totally unaware of the joke. "It's just that . . . well, I'm scheduled to meet someone and I'm a bit apprehensive."

"You want some fire power on you're side, hunh?"

"That's a bit extreme. But essentially, yes."

"Sure, I'm on my way. Oh! What's the deal with Thatcher?"

"Nothing yet I hope. I saw her to her apartment, and I'm picking her up in the morning."

"So what? You're going to watch her like a hawk trying to prevent something form happening."

"Yes."

"For how long?"

"Until the danger has passed."

Ray laughed, dryly. "How will you know when that is?" Fraser didn't respond so Ray decided to expound on that idea. "What of our kidnapper sees you hovering over the Dragon Lady like some Guardian angel in Red and decides not to do anything so nothing happens. Now you're not going to know nothing happened because nothing happened so you're just going to keep hovering around her until something does happen?"

"That makes no sense, Ray."

The Detective sighed. "I'll be there in a few minutes, see you then."

"Thanks Ray."

***

_ Say what you will about Rinefieald Turnbull; say that he is an idiot, a moron, stupid, incompetent, and unfit for his job. All those things would be true. However, even those that knew him best couldn't accuse him of misjudging people. The man knew by instinct who was a friend and who wasn't and he could read moods like most people read the funnies. The only problem was that he wasn't smart enough to realize that, or to use his gift in any way.

Had the career counselor at his high school been on top of things, he would have steered Tunrbull towards a career that would utilize this one strength, such as social work or being a high school career counselor. However, he had some how become a Mountie and through some act of God actually obtained the rank of Constable.

Fraser should have caught on to Turnbull's ability, his only ability. But the other Mountie was so incompetent in so many other areas that Fraser dismissed the mysterious warnings as another incompetence and was more than willing to trust Bear. However, that might have had something to do with an overriding sense of obligation. Ray, on the other hand, didn't trust anyone named after a carnivorous animal on principal.

"So what's the story behind this guy?" Ray asked as they sat at a small table, waiting for the waitress to bring them coffee and donuts. Ray didn't particularly like donuts, and Fraser found them entirely too sweet. But Ray considered the shear irony of him sitting in a coffee shop eating donuts was worth perusing, and Fraser didn't want to appear rude, so when Ray offered a Crawler, he didn't say no.

"Last I heard he was a tanner in one of the towns along the Alaskan Canadian border. Apparently he was in Chicago for some business . . ."

"'Cause tanning elk hide is such a big thing down here,"

". . . and he decided to visit."

"So you're nervous about meeting a tanner?"

"I wouldn't say I'm nervous."

"Yha," Ray scoffed. "You just thought I should meet this tanner on account of all those hides I have stashed in the basement."

The coffee came and Fraser took a drink before mounting into a story about his childhood in the frozen north that Ray knew would be long. "When I was fifteen my grandparents moved their library to Yucktiuck Flats. It was a gold mining town up in the Yukon, but the mines had dried up. Still, being the only settlement within hundreds of kilometers, the town somehow managed to survive. There were very few children my age there, four to be exact, so we all hung around each other, despite the fact that we really weren't friends."

"And Bear was one of these kids?"

"Yes, he was thirteen, still, he was twice as large as I was. There was also Darren Hunter, he was sixteen. And then there was his sister Lisa. She had the most beautiful long black hair." He shook his head and took another drink of his coffee, then continued. "During that short period I discovered a book in my grandmother's library about Australia, of all places, and for some reason the four of us decided that we were going to visit Australia over Christmas brake. Although, we were all home taught, so there were no real brakes. It was just the idea, of a place on the other side of the world, a place that was very much like Canada in a lot of ways, and then on the other hand, as different as possible. I think the irony captured our imagination. In any event we began to do things which we considered Australian. Lisa had developed an accent that was simply outrageous, and Darren spent hours researching marsupials. And I," he laughed softly, "I made a boomerang."

Fraser seemed so bothered by this story, Ray couldn't figure out why. They were kids, doing what kids did. Messing around, slowly discovering a world that was big, nothing unusual or upsetting as far as he could see. "So what, boomerangs illegal in Canada?" He said with his mouth full of a gazed donut.

"No Ray," Fraser said, his voice made it clear he thought that the very idea was ridicules. "However, if you've ever owned a boomerang, you know how difficult it is to actually make them come back to you."

"Amen."

"We were playing in a clearing with our backs too a mine that had been abandoned for years. Well that is Lisa and Bear were playing. Darren and I were trying to fix an old gas powered generator that whoever had abandoned the mine had left behind. It's cover was rusty, and there were spiders in the workings, but other than that it looked fine, as far as we could see. As a safety precaution I had siphoned almost a thankful of gas out of the generator and left it in a rusty bucket sitting near the entrance to the mine. Now, every time they threw the boomerang it just went straight, it never came back to them. Bear was complaining about how I had built the boomerang wrong, and I, in my pride, wanted to prove him wrong. I took the boomerang away and threw it away from the cave, just as I had read to in one of my grandmothers books." He looked up, smelling sadly. "It came back. We were all so surprised, even I was surprised, none of us thought to try and catch it. It sailed into the old opening of the mine and got lost in the darkness. We were all silent, to amazed to speak. Well everyone except Darren, who kept demanding we tell him just why we were so amazed. Eventually Lisa volunteered to get the boomerang. She pulled a mach book from somewhere, and ventured into the darkness. A few seconds later we heard a scream, she came running out, her hair was on fire."

Ray could see where the story was going, he felt sick in the pit of his stomach. Fraser continued. "Before I could react, do anything, Bear had grabbed the bucket of gasoline, supposing it was water I assume, and . . ."

"Oh God." Ray said, softly.

"We got the fire out, I don't know how. I think all three of us just through ourselves a top her and somehow smothered it. She was so badly burned, she couldn't . . . couldn't do anything. Bear carried her the nearly two miles home. We were all guilt ridden, all except for Darren, who was so worried for his sister that he couldn't even think. When the doctor said he didn't think their was anything he could do for her I . . . I panicked Ray. She was the sweetest girl I had ever met. I had known her only a few months and I felt as if she were my sister as well as Darren's. I ran. I didn't know where at first, but when I found myself ten miles outside of town at sundown, it accrued to me that I couldn't go back. How could I face Darren, or his parents knowing my negligence killed their daughter."

"It wasn't you that set her on fire; It wasn't you that threw the gas."

"I threw the boomerang, I put the gas in an accessible place, I didn't stop Bear." Fraser believed the whole thing was his fault, and Ray couldn't blame him. When something stupid and tragic happens, people need someone or something to blame. And for Fraser it was easier to blame himself instead of an ignorant kid two years younger than him, or the beautiful victim. 

"My father found me after three days, and it was a good thing too. I could survive fine in the summer but winter falls fast and hard in the Yukon, I wouldn't have made it."

"You're kidding me right?" Ray said, trying to lighten the mood. 

"I was only fifteen Ray."

"I guess I can cut you a little slack in that case." 

"She didn't die." Fraser started his narrative again, as if it had never stopped. "She was horribly burned, but somehow they had bandaged the wounds and air lifted her to the hospital in Inuvit. She was scared, and all of her beautiful hair was gone, but she lived. When I got back, Darren forgave me." Fraser was actually smiling. "He, he told me that he was so frightened and he didn't have anyone to talk to because I had gone. He was actually more angry at me for running than he was at me for my part in his sister's tragedy. He told me that it wasn't my fault. In another month Lisa came home. Her face was hardly recognizable. She suddenly spent more time in my Grandmother's library than she did out playing with us. She was week, and sickly, but she was still Lisa. She forgave me too. The only one who didn't forgive me was Bear. He insisted it was my fault, he said he was going to kill me. We moved not long after she came back, he never got the chance."

To be continued . . .


	5. Four

****

CHAPTER 4

Ray was amazed at the story, "Have you seen Lisa since then? Since you were fifteen?"

Fraser was smiling broadly. "Oh, yes. She grew up and became a nun."

"Ah nun?"

"Um-hum. She works at a hospital in Vancouver in the burn unit. I saw her not five years ago and she told me that being burned was the greatest blessing that she could have ever experienced."

"Being burned?" Ray asked doubtfully. Fraser knew from experience that Ray didn't understand nuns so he didn't think much of it.

"Yes, she claims that when she was so close to death she could see Jesus standing with her and she wasn't afraid. And now when she helps the burn victims she can share her story and they find hope and their Faith is strengthened."

"And you believed this?" 

"Yes."

Ray just shook his head and decided to change the subject. "So this Bear guy. You think he's going to kill you?"

"No."

"But you're not sure."

"His father was thrown in jail for murdering his mother. He was raised by an Uncle."

"Does anyone in the far north have a normal, tragedy free childhood?"

"Well yes Ray, of course."

At this point Bear walked in, Fraser recognized him immediately. On his part, Bear had to search the room twice before he finally figured out that the yutz in the hat was his old friend. Ray automatically, and correctly, assumed that he was not the swiftest fox in the den. Two things about Bear surprised Ray, one, he wasn't a Native American, and two, he was small, muscular, but small. Ray had envisioned a huge guy who could pull tree stumps out of the ground with his bare hands and would dwarf every person he came across. He had also seen the copper skin and the long black hair that the Inuit, or at least every Inuit he had met, all seemed to sport. In fact Justin "Bear" Collins was a white guy (probably Irish heritage considering the last name) about five-five with a buzz cut and hands that were two shades darker than the rest of his skin. "Hay Ben!" He called across the room. "It's been a long time!" He sat down and Ray would have sworn he felt the floor shake with the impact, the guy may not have been huge, but he was solid.

"Indeed it has Bear."

"God," the man laughed, "No one has called me that in years."

"Would you prefer Justin?"

"No, no, I like Bear." The way he said that put Ray on edge.

"Hay," Ray said, leaning forward and injecting himself into the conversation. "I'm Ray Vecchio, Benny's partner."

Bear looked at Ray for a second then turned back to Fraser, "Benny?" He asked laughing. "Benny? You've been Americanized, Ben."

"Don't I wish." Ray muttered as he leaned back in his seat, more than a little put out.

"I saw Lisa." Bear said out of the blue.

"Really?"

"She still looks like someone melted her face. And being locked up with all those sick people isn't doing any good for her."

"Odd," Fraser mused, "When I saw her a few years ago she seemed very happy."

"Nun's aren't happy people, Ben." Bear said as if it were a fact. The statement was so off the wall that there was nothing Ben could do to refute it. 

"Old days were good, till that happened."

"Yes," Ben nodded. "They were good."

"So how you doing now?"

***

Around one o'clock the waitress told them that they were going to have to leave. They parted company with very few words of any sort. Bear didn't even say goodbye.

"I don't like him." Ray said once the man was far enough away not to hear.

"By what criteria?"

"By the criteria that . . . I don't like him."

Fraser gazed after the man. Silent for a moment, then he pivoted and started walking towards his apartment. "I agree," he said softly as he walked away, perhaps with the hope the conversation wouldn't move with him. He should have known better than that.

"What you agree, you don't like him!"

"I never have, Ray. He always unnerved me some how. I don't know how to explain it."

"But you were friends, you were going to go to Australia!"

"Ray there were four people between the age of ten and twenty in this town, of course we did things together. But . . . I never felt as if I could trust him."

"Trust him! You just recited you're hole life story back in there. Every question he asked you answered like an idiot!"

Fraser shook his head. "I have no reason not to trust him."

"You feel like you can't that's enough." 

"And I owe him."

"Why because twenty years ago you forgot to tell him that there was gasoline not water in a bucket."

"Yes."

"Fraser, He's nut's for holding that against you, you're nuts for letting him."

"You didn't see her Ray. You didn't hear her, you didn't smell her." The Mountie trembled, as if someone had walked over his grave.

***

At five to eight Fraser pulled up in front of the Inspector's apartment building in the Consulate's car. He dearly wished his boss had wanted him to come an hour later, he had a feeling that one more hour of sleep would have done him a world of good. After coming home that night he had been too restless to sleep. He had pulled out his father's journals and found a section that he had been meaning to read for a long time, but had never gotten the courage.

__

September Seventeenth, 1975

Mother called my office today, with alarming news. Ben's decided to run away. I'm not sure about all of the details, apparently he's partially responsible for the near death of one of his friends. I've taken the next few days off to go and find him, Family emergency. Buck offered to help, but I turned him down. I don't know what I'm going to say to Ben when I find him, but I know that I'm the one that has to say it.

"When I got the message I thought that it was a joke. The staff Sargent at my posting would have found that humorous."

"Hello Dad." Fraser said looking up at his dead father.

"It wasn't until you're grandmother called me later that night that I realized it wasn't."

"She must have been worried." Fraser said, slightly ashamed.

"You're grandmother? She worried about everything."

"No she didn't," Fraser said. "I can't remember her worrying once."

"She hid it well." His father said with understanding. "It's a family trait."

"Why are you here Dad?"

His father shrugged and looked around, bewildered. "I have no idea. I hoped you might know."

They waited for a moment, hopping for some divine intercession. None came so Fraser licked his lips and said. "Do you want to hear about my present situation?"

"Sure." His father smiled, "I've got nothing better to do."

Fraser patiently explained the multiple dimensions of his day, his time with Garret, then with Inspector Thatcher and her family, then with Bear Collins. "I feel like someone has given me all the pieces to a puzzle but they haven't told me what the picture looks like."

"You think everything is connected?"

Fraser thought about that. "That's the problem, nothing is connected. Not yet."

"You think it will?"

"I can't see how."

"Son, In every crime there are clues that don't make a hint of sense until after the case is solved. That's just the way it is."

Fraser looked at his father uncertainly for a moment before he stuttered out, "Thanks, Dad, That's really . . . really comforting."

"So you feel better then?"

"Oh much," His voice was dripping with sarcasm, but his father didn't seem to notice it.

"Glad I could help."

***

He waited in the lobby for his Inspector and her niece for no more than two minutes. When the elevator chimed and Thatcher walked out wearing a pea green trenchcoat, with Elly decked in pink right behind her, Fraser was standing by the door with as subtle smile on his face.

"Hay!" Elly yelled, from across the lobby running to meat Fraser. "We baked cookies last night!"

He smiled down at her. "I do believe I heard that somewhere."

"And I made one special for you. It's in my bag." She pulled off her backpack, which was adorned with all sorts off odd key chains and started rummaging through the mess of books and pencils that were scattered at the bottom. Finally she pulled out a ziplock bag with two chocolate chip cookies in it. On was large and round and slightly burnt, the other was in the misshapen form that could have been a dog bone and was black as charcoal. "The circle is for you and the bone is for Diefenbaker. I know you said he couldn't have chocolate so I put rains in that one instead."

"That's very considerate of you." Fraser said, taking the bag. "I'm sure he'll love it."

"Brown uniform Constable?" Meg asked as she walked up. Fraser suddenly panicked. He hadn't even thought about the fact that he was escorting her family around when he had put his uniform on that morning. He was not scheduled for guard duty so naturally he donned the normal uniform, it hadn't accrued to him that it was a formal occasion and that he should be in dress Reds. "I'm sorry sir," he stuttered. "I could go home and . . ."

"No Constable, it's fine." She turned to her niece, hand outstretched. "Come on Elly."

The little girl took her aunt's hand and they walked out of the apartment building. Fraser stood there for a moment, trying to figure out weather she was pleased or upset. Unfortunately he was unable to do that. He had to jog to the car so he could get there before them and open the door. Elly climbed in first and immediately leaned over the seat to see Diefenbaker, who was napping on the floor. "Good morning!" She called to the sleeping wolf, He opened his eyes, looked at her smiling face, and laid his head back down on his paws, resolved to sleep again.

"You'll have to forgive him." Fraser said as he slid into the front seat. "He didn't get much sleep last night."

"Oh." Elly said, "You know I didn't go to bed until ten-thirty."

"Really?" Fraser asked.

"Un-hun."

"Elly," Meg interjected. Her voice was rather tense, as if she were discussing something delicate. It was a tone Fraser knew well. "I thought we agreed that that would be our secret."

"Oh," The little girl clapped her hands over her mouth. "I forgot."

"That's alright. As long as you don't tell you're grandparents."

Elly nodded furiously.

At that moment, the phone rang.

"Who would be calling?" Meg muttered as she pulled her phone out of her purse and Fraser pulled the car away from the curb.

"You're parents perhaps?" Fraser offered.

"Can I get it, Can I?" Elly begged.

Meg looked at the phone as it rung. "It could be the consulate."

"Is anyone there?"

"No."

"Pleas," Elly begged.

Meg looked at Fraser in the rear view mirror, his eyes were begging too. She handed Elly the phone, "Now say, Inspector Thatcher's phone, when you answer."

"Thanks!" She opened the flap and looked at all the buttons with wonder, "Which one do I push?"

Wordlessly Meg leaned over and pressed the TALK button, Elly's smile was huge as she put the phone to her ear. "Inspector Thatcher's Phone . . . You shouldn't say that. . . . Well yes, but he's driving and he's busy."

By this point Both Meg and Ben were incredibly curious about who could be on the other line. "Who is it?" Meg asked quietly.

"He didn't say."

"Ask."

"Who is this?" Elly said, returning to the phone. "I told you, you shouldn't say that."

"Who is it?" Meg demanded.

"Ray Vecchio?"

Meg shot Fraser a dangerous glance that he caught in the rearview mirror and said sweetly, "Give me the phone, Elly."

"Ok," Elly said cheerily to her aunt, handing over the phone without a complaint.

"This is inspector Thatcher." Meg said tersely.

"Who the hell was that!" Ray's voice was equally cross.

"That's not important, how did you get this number?"

"Welsh had it. Look I really need to talk to Fraser, It's important."

"He's occupied at the moment."

"Driving. I always talk on the phone when I'm driving. Give him the phone."

"I'll have him call you at his earliest convenience. Goodbye detective." She hung up before he could protest. "You have to call Detective Vecchio one we get to the consulate."

"The consulate? I was under the impression that we were fetching you're Family from the hotel."

"We are." Meg said matter-of-factly. "Then we're taking them to the consulate."

"I see." Fraser said, the truth was he didn't, but he was not about to let the inspector know that.

They held to the travailing arrangements that they had had earlier, The Inspector, her parents and Elly in a cab, while Fraser drove the boys, who were all very grumpy. Apparently he and Elly weren't the only one's who didn't get a full nights rest.

"Why do we have to go to the stupid Consulate?" Xerxes asked as he fiddled with the draw strings on the hood of his coat.

"Don't you want to see where you're aunt works?" Fraser asked.

"Is there any kid stuff there?" Leo inquired.

"Kid stuff . . . no, not really."

"No." Xerxes and Leo said in almost perfect unison.

"At least it's better than an Art Museum." Cimon said.

"That's actually on the schedule for later today." Fraser offered helpfully.

"I know," Cimon groaned.

"Actually I believe you will find the Art museum quite entertaining."

"It's not going to have kid stuff." Leo said, pouting.

"As a matter of fact it does. There is a wonderfully put together hands-on children's exhibit that teaches art appreciation. On top of which there is presently displayed a series by Graeme Base, who had illustrated several children's books."

"It sounds boring," Xerxes complained.

"On the contrary, I think you'll find it very educational."

"Boooooringgggg." Xerxes chanted.

"Here's the Consulate." Fraser said as he pulled up to the curb. He was very relived to be rid of his mal-content passengers. "Everybody out."

***

"Sir!!!!" Turnbull said, running down to Inspector Thatcher as she was leading her Family up the stairs to the offices. "The most horrible thing has happened!!"

"Did anyone die?" Thatcher asked, a total lack of concern in her voice.

"No, but . . ."

"Was anyone hurt?"

"No, still . . ."

"Was national security threatened?"

"Not to my knowledge, but . . ."

"Then, I suggest, Turnbull that you leave me alone. I've taken the weekend off." She pushed past him and her family followed, each of the children giving the poor blubbering Mountie a curious look. Finally at the end of the line Constable Fraser walked past. When Turnbull saw him a new spring of hope welled in his breast. "Constable Fraser, you'll be able to assist me."

"What's the matter Turnbull?" Fraser asked as he lowered his head and rubbed the bridge of his nose. He had not gotten enough sleep for this. 

"It would seem that a cheese factory in town has . . ."

"Turnbull." Fraser interrupted.

"Yes sir."

"It can wait."

"But sir . . ."

"It can wait for three days." Fraser said, a tad harsher than he meant to. Turnbull looked like he wanted to object again, but Fraser's expression made it clear that those objections could also wait for three days.

Benny finished walking up the stairs and turned into his office, shutting the door behind Diefenbaker. He could hear Inspector Thatcher showing her family her office, explaining everything and introducing them to Copper and Ovits, but he didn't pay any attention to that. What ever Ray had wanted to say must have been extremely important for him to dare and call the Inspectors phone. 

There was only one ring before the phone was picked up and Benny could hear Ray's disgruntled voice. "Vecchio."

"Ray, its Fraser."

Ray's voice changed dramatically. "Hay, Benny. Who the hell answered the Inspector's Phone?"

"Elly Thathcer."

"Oh my God, the Dragon Lady's spawning!"

Under normal circumstances Fraser would have felt honor bound to give Ray a harsh look, however this was a phone conversation. Ray would be unable to see his reaction, and no one at the consulate would know what he was reacting too. With these assurances Fraser allowed himself a slight smile, at the shear ridiculousness of Rays comment. "Elly is Inspector Thatcher's niece."

"Who the hell gives there niece their cellular phone?!"

"A good aunt?"

"No, a total idiot. Who knows who could be calling. I'd never give any of my nieces my phone, and believe me they've asked!"

"Why did you call Ray?"

"I checked out our friend Bear from last night, he's got a sheet."

"There isn't a warrant out for him, is there?"

"No, but you remembered how he said he saw Lisa?"

Benny got a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Yes."

"He assaulted her at the hospital she works at. Tried to drag her out violently. The police came and threw him in the slammer for a couple of nights but the church didn't want to press charges because of some forgiveness thing so they let him out. That was about a week ago."

"He came right here." Fraser couldn't see the picture of the puzzle yet, but he was beging to see that certain colors went together. "Is there anything else Ray?"

"Not really. He got thrown in jail for eighteen months when he was twenty, something about death threats."

"Which jail."

"Yukon Territories Correctional Facility. Hay Benny, is there only one jail in the Yukon?"

Fraser ignored the question. "Thank's for the information Ray."

"You gonna stop by later?"

"I don't think so."

"Keeping an eye on Thatcher and assorted Thatcheretts?"

Benny smiled again. "Yes."

"Good luck." Ray said. It was only half a joke.

***

Once Inspector Thatcher and all the 'assorted Thatcheretts' were safely on a guided tour of the Chicago Art Museum Fraser slipped out and went to one of the pay phones in the lobby. He didn't want to leave the tour, he had never actually taken one before, but there was something he needed to find out immediately. 

It took about ten minutes and five American dollars worth of quarters to reach the person he wanted to speak to, and then he was put on hold for another five minutes. In the end he lost ten American dollars to the pay phone and gain information which put Bear Collins in perspective.

After the art museum they ate lunch just off of Michigan Avenue and from there they went shopping. 

Elly was an angle, she stayed by her aunt the entire time. Excited by everything she saw, but always running right back to Meg. The boy's, on the other hand, were not such angels. FAO Shwarts was a nightmare for Fraser. It was his sole responsibility to watch over all fore boys in the four story toy store. Inspector Thatcher tried to help, as much as she could with Elly pulling on her hand trying to show her some Barbie or a particularly cute stuffed toy. 

By the end of the Day the Mountie was particularly exhausted. The boys had finally run out of energy around five, and Fraser ended up carrying Elly most of the way from the shops back to the hotel. It wouldn't have been a problem but he was also carrying more than half of what the family had bought that day. They were quite a sight. Xerxes and Leo were in front, each trying to figure out the yo-yos they got at FAO Shwarts as they walked. Then there was Meg, listening to her parents converse about something. Following them were Will and Cimon, who were complaining that the Nike store didn't have nearly enough hockey stuff in it. Following them was Fraser, who agreed but didn't say anything, carrying Elly, and at his side was Diefenbaker, who had two sacks tied together flung over his back. 

They were in the Hotel lobby, The boys' were trying to sort out bags, figuring out which stuff belonged to who. Meg had taken a second to run to a pay phone and check her messages. As much as she wanted to have this weekend off, she was too much of a control freak to trust the consulate to run on it's own. Fraser was alone and venerable for attack.

"Constable," Mr. Thatcher said as he and his wife walked up to the Mountie with a smile. It was the first time her parents had talked to him all day, Fraser was just a little surprised.

"Yes sir?"

"What do you think of our daughter?"

"Of you're daughter?"

"Yes."

For some reason Fraser felt at trap in the question, as innocent as it seemed. He reminded himself that these were her parents, and that, accordingly, they were trustworthy people. "She is the finest officer I have ever worked under. I respect her very much."

William Thatcher gave Benny a smile that was somehow disconcerting. "That's not at all what I meant Constable."

"Than I'm afraid that I don't understand."

He put his arm on Benny's shoulder and leaned in, "I remember what it's like to be an attractive young man. Always ready for the chase. Desiring only the most elusive of pray." Fraser couldn't figure out what the man was talking about, he had assumed they were going to discuss the Inspector, but now he was rambling on about hunting. "I just feel you should know that you should set your sights else where. I cannot condone this behavior concerning my daughter, because, and I hate to be blunt, but she's not attainable, for you at least. I'm not only looking out for her well being, but for yours as well. You understand don't you?"

Fraser nodded his head. "Not in the least."

At this point her mother stepped up to the conversation. "We've seen the way you look at her, and quite frankly, we find it . . ." she paused to find the exact word, "inappropriate."

Suddenly, Fraser understood. He had been looking at her a lot that day, not so much as a superior officer, but as a person. And oddly the more he saw her as a person, the more in love he felt. She had worn jeans and a red sweater that highlighted her figure ever so softly, and she looked absolutely radiant. Several times that day Ben had had to force himself not to stare. She had a wonderful smile that she would give to Elly or any of the boys when they wanted to show her something, and the loving tolerance she gave her impossible-to-pleas mother was truly beautiful. Fraser had never been given the opportunity to see his superior officer out of that role before, and for all he knew he might never again. He had wanted to treasure it, observe and remember everything. He had never even thought that his gazes might be considered 'inappropriate.' "Oh," was all he could think to say.

"We really do appreciate all the help you've been to us." Her mother said, with a large, gracious smile. "But we think it would be better if someone else from the consulate helped tomorrow."

Fraser didn't know what to say. He assumed that Meg had been privy to this decision, that she didn't appreciate being looked at in that way. How could he have been so inconsiderate, so stupid, so selfish? "Of course. I'm sorry." He said in a somewhat stunned voice. Mindlessly he turned around and walked out the door, before Inspector Thatcher could get back from the phone and he would have to look her in the eyes again. He was too overwhelmed to remember Garret, or Bear, or even Diefenbaker.

To Be Continued . . .


	6. Five

Chapter 5 

_              Meg walked back to her family rubbing her temples.  Ovit's had gone home early, figuring no one would notice or care, Copper was out on guard duty, which left Turnbull in charge.  He had yammered on about this cheese factory thing, until she felt like slapping him, which of course she couldn't do because he was on the phone.  After about ten minutes she was finally able to discover that she had no messages.  She asked for Fraser as well while she was on the phone, which brought up a horrible Morel dilemma for poor Turnbull.  He thought it would be a breach of the Constable's privacy for him to give his messages to the inspector, however if she ordered him too he would be put in a position where he would have to judge weather his duty or his morality was more important.  Meg decided it wasn't worth the hassle and just hung up.  When she got back to her family Will and Cimon were arguing with there grandparents.

"I can't believe this!"  Will practically yelled.  "I mean it's stupid."

"William," her mother said angrily.  "You are not in a position to judge this decision."

"What decision?"  Meg asked, assuming it was something to do with the nights itinerary.

"They threw Constable Fraser out!"  Cimon said, he was a livid as his brother.

"What?"

"Margaret," her mother said in an excruciatingly motherly voice.  "You have to learn that . . . that sort of behavior is not you're cross to bear."

"Behavior?"

"Constable Fraser's gazes were totally inappropriate.  While that sort of attention may be flattering it has no place in the Royal Canadian Mounted police."

Suddenly, Meg understood.  She was furious at them, for assuming that Fraser's gazes were unwanted, or even inappropriate.  She had worn a red sweater that day with the hope he would notice.  Truth be told, there were several times she worried that she was harassing him.  She often had to check her responses, and guard her words.  And it wasn't because she was afraid of Ottawa, of being reported, she knew he had one of those gentlemanly mindsets that would inhibit him from telling anyone, no matter what she did.  No, she didn't want to hurt him, or pressure him.  She had been hurt by sexual harassment before, it had marred her career, and worse it had made her doubt herself, she wouldn't do that to him.  Nor would she want him to think that he would be better off if he loved her.  She only wanted his affections if they were genuine.

As mad as she was, she did realize that they were being parents, protecting their only daughter.  She couldn't hold that against them.

"They just threw him out!"  Cimon explained.  Will was too busy brooding to say a word.  "I mean it looked like he had been shot or something!"

"Don't Exaggerate, Cimon," his Grandmother scolded.

"How are we going to get around tomorrow, Hun?  You think of that?"  Will demanded.

"William, don't you dare take that tone of voice with us!"  His grandmother said, with an authority he could not deny.

"Margaret can arrange some other escort, can't you dear?"  Her father asked.

Meg didn't know what to say to her father, she could get Cooper or Turnbull to drive the kids around, that wouldn't be a problem.  But she didn't want them to do it, she wanted Fraser. 

Diefenbaker barked.

"He left his dog."  Inspector Thatcher said, half out of annoyance, half out of relief.

"It's a wolf."  Cimon corrected.

"You're not upset are you Margaret?"  Her mother asked, something in the way she had changed the subject tipped the elder Thacther off.

"No, mother, it's just a hassle."

"We didn't make trouble for you, you understand, It's just that . . ."

"No, no, I know exactly what you were trying to do, and thank you for the thought, but . . ."  She looked around the hotel uneasily.  But what?  But she was in love with her subordinate?  But she would rather spend the night alone with him than with them?  But they had been insensitive and thoughtless?  "What are we going to do for the rest of the night?  We can't go anywhere with the wolf, and he can't stay here."

"Dog's can find their own way home."  Xerxes interjected, less than helpfully.  

"Like in that one movie," Leo added.

Her mother nodded.  "You really shouldn't worry about it, Margaret.  It's a wolf for God sake, I'm sure it can take care of itself."

Under normal circumstances Meg would have agreed, but these circumstances were hardly normal.  "No Mother, I have a responsibility to Constable Fraser.  He was kind enough to aid us all day.  We could at least be kind enough to get his wolf home safely."

"Margaret I think you're acting irrationally."  Her father said, warning in his voice.  Throughout her teenage years she had dreaded that phrase from her father.  Neither of her parents ever told her what to do, or what they thought, But her father had branded every action he disapproved of as irrational.  At first she took his word for it, then she became stubborn and fought to rationalize every action. (She constructed a whole Aristotelian argument to prove to him that joining the RCMP was not irrational.)  But now Meg was an adult, an Inspector, she didn't need her father's approval to act.  

"If I am, that's my prerogative."  She said sharply.  Turning to the wolf she said, "Come."  With that she pivoted and started to storm out the door.  Her parents watched her go without saying anything.  If their daughter was going to be stupid and make a fool of herself, they weren't going to stop her.  

"Auntie Meg!"  Elly called, having to run to catch up with the annoyed Inspector.

"Elly," Meg said looking down at the little girl who had to jog to keep up.  "Maybe you should stay with your Grandparents tonight."

"But all my stuff is at your place."

"Elly . . ."

"Pleas auntie Meg, pleas.  I can take care of Diefenbaker while you look for Constable Fraser.  I'll be a big help, I promise."

Meg wanted to say no, but she couldn't resist those big green eyes.

***

"No!"  Franny yelled.  "No no no!  You can not barrow fifty dollars."

"Stop yellin'!"  Tony yelled right back.  "It's for Maria's birthday."

"It's tomorrow!  What can you possibly get her in the next three hours all the stores are closed."

"There's this guy I know . . ."

"Like the guy who sells house coat's out of his trunk?"  Franny asked accusingly.

"Look you gonna give me the money or not?"

"Where does all you're money go?  You have a job too!"

"Who do you think buys the food in this house?"

"Me!"

"Pay's the bills?"

"Ray!"

Tony paused for a moment.  "Look, all I'm asking is fifty till pay day."

Franny sighed, resigned that he would nag her until she said yes.  "Fine," She groaned.  "But all I can spare is thirty.  I got a date tomorrow."

"Thirty, yha tha'd be good.  You're the Greatest Franny, I owe you one."

 "Yha," Franny mused.  "You owe me about eighteen."

At that moment the doorbell rang.

"Someone get that!"  Their Ma yelled from the kitchen.  She was cooking and she didn't like to leave the kitchen, despite the fact she was by far the closest one to the front door.

Franny sighed, again, and started heading towards the front door.

"What about the Money?"  Tony demanded.

"What you can't wait a minute."  Franny yelled over her shoulder as she bounded down the stairway.  

"Come On!  Maria's Birthday is in, like, an hour."

"Cool you're jets!"  Franny yelled as she fiddled with the lock on the door.  Finally she managed to open it and was shocked by what she saw.

A beautiful woman and a cute little girl were standing at her doorway.  Both looked like they were absolutely frozen through, which didn't surprise Franchisca as it was a bitterly cold night for mid-September.  

"Can I talk to Ray Vecchio please?"  The woman asked, her voice was hard, but trembling ever so slightly from the cold.

"You know him?"

The woman took a deep breath.  "Yes."

"You his, ah, friend, girl-friend?"

"No."  The woman said harshly.

"Franchesca!"  Ma Vecchio Yelled as she poked her head out of the kitchen.  "Invite Ray's friends in out of the cold."

"Yha Ma!"  Franny yelled.  Her head was turned so she didn't see the woman wince.  She turned back to the freezing pair in the doorway.  "Won't you come in." she said sweetly.

Elly didn't need to be asked twice.  The little girl practically ran into the warm house with the wonderful smells emanating from the kitchen.  The woman followed at a more conservative pace, and before Franny could shut the door, Diefenbaker slipped in.  "Hay, isn't that?"

"Constable Fraser's wolf."  Meg said crisply.  "I'm actually looking for him."

"Well the wolf's right there . . ."  Franny said, surprised that the obvious hadn't accrued to the woman.

"Not the wolf, Constable Fraser."  Meg said, with admirable patients.  "You wouldn't happen to know where he is would you?"

"Your . . . your not his, ah, girlfriend are you?"  Franny asked, almost fearful of the answer.

"No," Meg snapped, a little quicker than was necessary.  Realizing that, she cleared her thought and said nicely, "I'm Inspector Meg Thatcher.  Constable Fraser's superior officer."

By this time Elly and Ma Vecchio had found each other.  "And who is this dearheart?"  The kind older Italian woman asked.

"That's my niece, Elly."  Meg said, not missing a beat she turned back to Franny.  "Is detective Vecchio here or not?"

"Ahhhhh, no."  

Meg sighed a deep, frustrated, sigh.  "Alright Elly.  We should go."  She said, her voice hadn't lost it's edge, but Ma Vecchio, who was an extremely sensitive woman could hear the weariness in it.

"No, you can't leave yet, you've just got here!"  She said, actually leaving the kitchen doorway.  "Here dearie, give me you're cote.  Sit down, have some coffee."

"Thank you, but I really couldn't trouble you.  Come on Elly."

"No trouble.  You're a guest in my house.  You're not going back into that cold until you've warmed up some."  Meg was about to protest, but Mrs. Vecchio pulled out her secret weapon.  Turning to Elly she said, "Come here sweety, we'll make some hot chocolate, and I have scarpachi cookies baking in the oven, how does that sound."

All weekend Meg had succumb to the large green eyes of her niece and standing in the warm Vecchio home she was too tiered to start saying no.  So Elly scurried into the Kitchen and Meg took of her coat, was given a seat on the couch and waited for Ray.  

She hadn't been waiting long when Tony came bounding down the stairs two at a time.  "Franchescaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!"  He yelled, "Where's that money, I need it!"

"JUST WAIT!"  Franny's voice called from the hallway.  Meg was amazed that Fraser spent a fair amount of his free time in this household and hadn't gone deaf.

Tony wandered into the living room and was about to plop on the couch when he noticed there was a ridged, lovely, woman already there.  "Hay."  He grunted, it was supposed to be a greeting, but it didn't come off well.        

Meg wasn't sure how to respond to that.  

He must have sensed her uneasiness because he extended a hand and said.  "I'm Tony."

Meg looked at the hand, with grease under the finger nails and lots of little burns from cigarettes.  She was much to tiered to deal with dirty people.  She knew that made her spoiled a snob and a bitch and someone she couldn't really justify being, but regardless, she just looked at the hands and said.  "Inspector Thatcher," by way of introduction.

Tony smiled down at her, an odd smile, mainly because his teeth were much cleaner than the rest of him.  "Dragon Lady, huh?  Here to see Ray?"

"Dragon Lady?"

"Ok, Ray's on his way."  Franny said as she walked into the room.  "You're pretty lucky.  He was actually losing and . . . Tony!  What are you doing in here?"

"Me and the Dragon Lady were just talking."

"Does she look like she wants to talk to you?"

"Who are you to tell me who she want's to talk to?  This is my house too you know, I can talk to any damn person under its roof!"

"No Swearing!"  Ma Vecchio yelled from the kitchen as she carried out a tray with a couple of steaming mugs, filled with coffee, and a platter of fresh-out-of-the-oven cookies.  "Now let's all sit and drink some coffee as we wait for Ray."

"Ma, he's only three houses away.  How long do you think it's gonna take him to get here?"

_Not fast enough,_ Meg thought.  But she didn't say anything.

"Antie Meg, you should see her refrigerator.  It has about a million pictures on it!  She has the biggest family ever."

Ma Vecchio laughed.  "No, sweetie, our family's a normal size.  You should talk to Rebecca Alonzo.  She has the biggest family of anyone I know.  Twelve children, forty two grandchildren."

"Oh!"  Fanny said excitedly, nearly spilling the cup of coffee as she handed it to Meg.  "That reminds me I heard that Julia Malago is pregnant."

Ma Vecchio muttered something in Italian and quickly crossed herself.  "That girl, she's not even married."

"Yha, well I also heard that she and her boyfriend, you know Charlie, the kid that used to sweep outside the grocery when we would walk to the bakers, anyway, their getting married next month."

This fact obviously upset Mrs. Vecchio.  "We shouldn't talk about these things in fount of guest."  She said graciously.  "So what do you do at the consulate?"

Meg suddenly found her mouth extremely dry.  She was terrified of these people, they were so alien, she didn't know how to talk to them, she didn't know what they expected to hear. "I manage the consulate."  She managed to spit out. 

"What exactly is a consulate anyways?"  Tony asked.  "Is it like an embassy or something."

Meg took a drink of Coffee, it was very good, but her mouth was still dry.  "It's similar, while an embassy is mainly concerned with diplomatic interests, a consulate deals with commerce."

"So if I were a Canadian and I needed American money, I'd go to the consulate?"  Franny asked.

"Yes, we do provide that service."

"So then how come Fraser's always off with Ray doing" she moved her hands vaguely, as if she were going to pull a word out of the air.  "Stuff."

Meg shook her head slightly.  "I have no idea."

That's when Ray burst in.  "Damn it's cold!"  He yelled to no one in particular as he slammed the door shut.  Then, still yelling he walked into the family room.  "Ok, this better be good because I was about to clean up."

"Oh, pleas!"  Franny muttered, rolling her eyes.  

When Ray entered the living room he was shocked to say the least.  There was his family, he saintly mother, his slob of a brother-in-law, a little girl didn't look at long enough to figure out she wasn't related to him, his kid sister whom no one additive could truly describe, Diefenbaker the supposedly deaf wolf, and there right in the middle was Inspector Margaret Thatcher.  The only thing he could think to say was, "Where's Benny?"

Meg put her mug on a coaster and stood up.  She had been sitting still in that room too long, with people she just didn't know how to deal with.  Finally, a person, and a situation that she was prepared for.  "You have no idea where he is?"

"Does he have any idea where you are?"

"I need to find him so I can give back his wolf."

"He left Dief with you."  That made a little more sense to Ray.

"I can't keep him in my apartment or the consulate, and I can hardly let him lose to wander the streets."

"Why can't you keep him in you're apartment?"  Ray asked.  Fraser had obviously left Dief with the Inspector to protect her.  Ray wasn't about to let Fraser down by accepting responsibility for the wolf.

"No pets.  Look detective, if you don't know where he is can you at least suggest some places I might look?"

"You try his apartment?"

"I called three times."

"He got a phone?"

"I called Mr. Mustaffie."

"And."

"He's not in."

"The consulate?"

"Checked there."

"The dinner, three blocks west . . ."

"Checked there."

Ray found himself racking his brains.  "The station house."

"Checked there, they were less then helpful."  Ray could just imagine the guys who worked the night shift stonewalling her and hitting on her at the same time.  

"He's just probably out on a walk or something."  Ray said, knowing it was less than helpful.  "You know, it's nice and cold, reminds him of home."

Meg sighed and nodded.  "Could you keep Diefenbaker here, until we find Fraser?"

"No," Ray said quickly because he didn't have a good reason not too.  Meg seemed to suspect that, she glared at him with skeptical eyes.  "You see my sister Maria, she's . . . allergic to dogs.  And, ah, if theirs one in the house she'll just, ah, brake into hives and sneezing.  Not pretty."

"Ray what are you talking about?"  His mother demanded.  The question was on Tony and Franny's lips too, but his mother got it out first.

"I'll explain later ma."  He said in his man-of-the-house voice, which no one could dispute.

Meg knew it was a lie.  She knew that for some reason, which she naturally assumed was selfish, Ray wouldn't take in the wolf.  She gave the detective a harsh look that sent chills through his body then she called out.  "Elly, we have to go."

"Are we going to go home?"

"Not quite yet sweetie."

"I'm tiered."

"I know, finish up you're hot chocolate."

"I don't want the rest."

Meg took a deep breath and walked into the middle of the room, scooped the half-asleep child up and headed to the door.  She paused before Mrs. Vecchio.  "Thank you so much for you're hospitality."

"Any time dear."  Ma said earnestly.

Before Ray could think to react, Meg was out the door and walking down the driveway with determination, checking ever so often to make sure that Dief was behind her.  "You could say here for a little while, I could make some calls . . ."

"No thank you detective."  She called back, as she placed the drowsy child into the car with conspicuous Canadian flags on it.  "I wouldn't want you to inconvenience yourself."  

As she pulled away from the curb Ray slammed the door again.  "Damn!"  Only this time it was soft, so his mother wouldn't scold him.  Only Franny heard.

"What?"  She asked.

"Nothing," he muttered.  "Never mind."

"Never mind?  Fraser's boss just drops in for coffee, then you throw her out, then you beg her to stay?  What's up Ray?  You got a thing for her?"

Ray just laughed at the shear stupidity of the comment.  That coupled with the oddness of the event and the threat that was unrealized all struck him as really funny.  "No Franny.  I don't got a thing for her."

"Really?  'Cuse I like her."

"Oh, you do?  Really?"

"Well . . . yha.  She's got this aura, you know."

Ray grunted.  "Aura, I wonder if that's what Fraser sees in her."

That caught Franny's ear.  "What Fraser sees in her?  What is that supposed to mean?"

"It means what it means, now will you let me alone, I gotta make some calls."

Franny wanted to push it, but could tell that it wasn't a good time.  That was fine though, she could wait.

To Be Continued . . . . 


	7. Six

**Chapter 6**

Responsibility was an odd thing.  Diefenbaker stayed with Inspector Thatcher out of a responsibility he felt towards Fraser, he had known the Mountie was concerned about her and so he felt that it was his duty to protect her.  Ray was going to do all he could to keep the wolf with Thatcher for the same reason: responsibility towards Fraser.  However, that same responsibility drove Meg to go to the consulate at nearly midnight to lock the wolf in Fraser's office.  She was too tiered and frustrated to spend any more energy looking for the constable himself.  Had Diefenbaker felt less responsibility, and left Meg after not getting supper, or if Ray had felt less responsibility and taken the poor wolf out of the clutches of the evil Dragon lady, or if Meg had felt less responsibility and let the wolf find it's own way home, she would have been locked safe in her well lit, well guarded apartment and in the days to come everyone would have been infinitely happier.  But as it was, everyone was entirely too responsible.

Meg pulled the consulate car into it's parking space behind the building.  She didn't notice the shifting shadows, she didn't even think to look.  Elly was sleeping in the passenger seat, and Dief was sleeping in the back.  

Meg looked behind her, to the sleeping wolf.  Maybe she didn't have to actually get out of the car, maybe she could just keep him in there, maybe she could just let him sleep, and let Elly sleep, maybe she could just let herself take a nap.  But Meg Thatcher was far too regulated to give herself that little brake.  She opened her door and pushed herself out into the darkness.

The shadows shifted again.  The darkest shadow got closer.

Meg stood stock still, with her door opened for a moment.  She suddenly felt very afraid, and she didn't know why.  Instead of being irrational and following her instincts she took a deep breath and told herself that shadows didn't move.  She closed her door and turned her back to the shadows so she could open the door for Diefenbaker.  

Dief wasn't sleeping when Meg turned around.  He was wide-awake and he was staring out the window with piercing blue eyes and growling, as if ready to attack.  But he obviously wasn't going to attack her, he was looking at something behind her.  The fear that Meg had felt before doubled, but instead of opening the door and letting the wolf attack the moving shadow, she turned around just in time to see the man step into the half-light.  He took a step towards her, she had no doubt that it was a threatening step.  She tried to back up, but the car stopped her.  Dief was barking now, scratching at the cars windows, trying desperately to get out, to help.  

All the noise woke up Elly.  As soon as she saw the man, and the expression on his face, and the look in his eyes and the way that her Aunt Meg was pressed against the car she understood that something very scary was happening.  She tried to get up, to open the door and do something, but she was still in her seat belt.  She was far too panicked to figure out how too get out, so she simply sat, yelling, and watched the man put his hand over her aunts neck, and then over her mouth, and she saw her aunt try to pry the man off, but he was too strong, and Diefenbaker was barking, and Elly was yelling and trying to wiggle out, but she couldn't.  And then Meg stopped trying to fight, and the man let go, and she fell to the ground and she didn't move, and Elly's yells were mixed with sobs.  The man didn't even look towards the noisy pair in the car as he picked up the limp body of Inspector Thatcher and carried her into the shadows.  Elly kept yelling, until her voice gave way, and then she sobbed.  She cried so hard that she couldn't breath and she couldn't see and she didn't notice when Dief stopped barking.

In fact, she didn't notice Dief until he started to lick the tears off her cheeks.  Elly wrapped her arms around the wolf and cried some more.  She cried until she was out of tears, at which point she pushed herself away from the wolf, there was still a trembling in her voice as she asked, "What should I do?"

Dief licked her face a few more times, wiping all the tears away.  Then he started to paw at her seatbelt, and managed to do what the little girl couldn't in her panic.  Then he half climbed over her and started pawing at the door handle.  "What if he's still out there?"  Elly demanded.  "What if he's waiting to get us?"

Dief whimpered, as if to refute that particular fear, and continued to paw at the door.  Taking a deep breath, Elly opened the door and nerviously climbed out of the car after Dief.  

She didn't shut the car door, nor did she think to grab her backpack as she followed the wolf down the shadowy streets.  He was walking slowly, ever so slightly ahead of her.  If anyone came within two meters of the pair Dief would growl and that person would back off.  They started walking successively into worse neighborhoods, but no one dared go near the little girl with the guardian wolf.  A few people called out things that were less than kind, but Elly was in a state of shock, she couldn't register anything beyond staying with the wolf.  That was all that mattered, staying close to the wolf; he was safety.   She barely noticed when he lead her inside a building, or up a dirty stair way, and when he pushed open a door to an apartment, she didn't even think twice about entering, even though she didn't know who's it was.  And when he lead her a bed, she didn't hesitate to lie down in it, and curl up in a little ball, and start crying again until she was asleep.

***

Fraser had been by the lake.  As always, it was cooler by the lake.  It had been socking up the heat all summer, and so, with this odd and early coolness, it was stemming like a teakettle.  The lakes in the Territories would do that as winter fell, he remembered when he was a child looking out over the lake near his house and watching the steam rise as it was raining.  It seemed so odd to him that the water would go up and down at the same time.  Part of that vivid memory was his mother humming as she cooked dinner.  All the time he had been walking he had heard that tune in his minds ear and smelled the beef stew in his minds sent.

If Ray had seen him as he wandered down the lakefront mindlessly passing the museums and beaches, and asked the Mountie what he was doing, Fraser wouldn't have been able to answer.  That was mainly because he was overcome with feelings, and he never quite new how to handle that.  He was worried, worried about Meg, and Bear, and about the fact that he might be entirely wrong about the whole thing and there was some other dark haired lady out there who was depending on him, and who he was going to let down.  Add to the worry the general distress he felt about the whole affair with the Inspector's parents.  He had not only showed disrespect to _her_, but he had also sabotaged any hope he had of warding off the man with the big hands.  _At least, _he mused_, Diefenbaker is with her._  That eased his mind a little, the wolf wouldn't let anything happen.  He was assured by that thought as he climbed up the stairs to his apartment just before dawn.  So, naturally, when he saw his door open, and Diefenbaker sitting in the doorway he was very concerned.

"What are you doing here?"  He demanded of the wolf, then, on second thought, he said, "No, no.  You have every right to be here, this is you're home too."

To that, Dief growled softly and trotted over to the bed.

"Well, I'm sorry."  Fraser said, listening more to Dief's tone than his actual message.  "Perhaps you're right, Sleep can . . ."  His voice trailed off as he saw the unnatural lump on his bed with strawberry blond curls.  He took a few steps closer, hopping the lump was part of his imagination, a waking dream.  He had read about that once in his grandmother's library, when a person was deprived of sleep for a long period of time they often became delusional, seeing things that weren't there. 

He reached out to touch the lump, fully expecting it to evaporate at any moment.  Instead it whimpered and curled up into a tighter ball.

"Elly?"  He asked uncertainly, hopping that addressing her would brake the spell, in a way it did.  

She must have recognized his voice because she managed to ask, "Constable Fraser?" in a very horse voice.

Fraser licked his lips and exhaled quickly.  A habitual action for when trying not to panic.  He had to wait, to restrain his vivid imagination from concocting all sorts of wild scenarios which would bring Elly Thatcher into his apartment.  He had to wait and hear the perfectly logical, simple, explanation.  Slowly, as if rapid movement would somehow shatter the surreal mood, he walked over to the other side of the bed and sat on the ground, laying his chin on the bed.  They were eye to eye, and he could see that she had been crying.  

"Are you cold?"  He asked softly.  He tried to keep his apartment several degrees cooler than any other place in Chicago, an in weather like this it wasn't hard.  Elly nodded, and sniffled.  

"Well, we can fix that."  Benny reached out and grabbed his wool blanket that was folded at the end of the bed and raped it around her.  "Better?"  

Elly shrugged, but didn't say anything.

They sat in silence for a moment, while Fraser accumulated courage.  Finally he asked, "Elly, where is you're aunt?"

Elly looked like she was about to cry again, but she didn't have any tears left.  "I'm sorry."  She managed to squeak out.

"Sorry for what?"

"I wasn't brave.  All I did was yell."

"You yelled?"  That explained the lost voice.

"I should have been brave, like a Mountie.  I should have fought."

"Who should you have fought?"

"The guy that killed Aunt Meg."

Elly said that with hardly any emotion, which frightened Fraser more than if she had been wearing sash cloth and ashes.  It meant that it hadn't sunk in yet.  It was un-real to the little girl, she knew it had happened, she knew it for a fact, but it was un-real.  Fraser could understand that.  He had been six, and all of a sudden found himself mother-less.  He had been at her funeral. He knew empirically that she was dead, he believed it, he had even been allowed to kiss her dead lips one last time before they buried her and as soon as they got home he had asked his father what Mum had prepared for dinner. It hadn't been real to him. At least not at first.  It took a while for it to be real.

How ever, Elly's statements weren't real to Fraser either.  He believed that she was mistaken, the inspector couldn't be dead.  Garret's dire predictions had suddenly become a beam of hope.  She couldn't be dead, not yet.  And he was going to find her, and save her.  And God help whoever did this, because Fraser was going to try damned hard to make sure no one else would.

"Can you describe the man?"  Fraser asked, once he found his voice again.  "Tell me what he looked like, what he talked like, anything?"

"No."

"Elly, please, now, you saw him didn't you."

"I wanted to hit him, but . . ."

"No, you were smart not to get close.  He was big wasn't he?"

"His hands were really big."

"Was he taller than you're aunt?"

She shook her head.  "Shorter,"

"By about how much?"

She placed her hand above the bed, to indicate less then a foot.

"And you saw his skin didn't you.  You saw weather it was light or dark, or something in between."

"Light."  She muttered, he didn't as much hear her as read her lips.

"And his hair did you see his hair?"

"He didn't hardly have any.  None almost."

"Did you see any scars?"

"No."

"How about his eyes."

Elly shivered, as if the room had just dropped ten degrees.  "Crazy."

"Crazy?  Anything else?"

"They were crazy."

Fraser took a deep breath.  "Do you remember what he did?"

Elly nodded.

"Could you tell me?"  Elly looked away, frightened.  Fraser knew that the more you talked about something like that, the more real it became.  And it was less painful to keep it un-real.  "Elly, please, it's very important."

Her eyes met his, and somewhere in that connection she found the strength to talk.  "I woke up because Diefenbaker was barking, and then I looked at what he was barking about and it was him.  He put his hand on her neck and on her mouth.  And that's when I began to yell.  I should have done something, I should have been brave."

Fraser reached over and stroked the girls hair out of her eyes.  "You were very brave."  He said softly.

"She fell down, and he picked her up and took her away into the shadows.  And all I did was yell."

"That was smart of you, not to try and fight him.  He would have hurt you too."  He tried to smile at her, but he was less than convincing.  "How did you get here?"

"Diefenbaker brought me. . . . I don't really remember, much."

"No," Fraser said, standing up.  "Of course you don't."  He could see the sun's light start to creep through the space between the buildings.  Time was slipping through his hands, and he couldn't afford to lose a second.  Garret's words were twice as disturbing now as they had been before: "If you don't come, she'll die."

To Be Continued . . .


	8. Seven

**Chapter 7**

Ray Vecchio still had that just-out-of-bed taste in his mouth as he stumbled into the 

27th precincts bullpen.  He had gotten this spooky call around five thirty from Fraser.  The Mountie blubbered something about Thatcher in his bed, but had on the whole been indecipherable.  Of course, part of that might have been that Ray was barely awake.  In any event, he had heard the urgency, the fear, and the panic in his friends voice, and he had gotten to the station as quickly as he could.  As a result of his urgency he had forgotten to brush his teeth an action which he sorely regretted, and he hadn't had time to grab a cup of coffee to wash the bad flavor out.  He was almost sick to his stomach from the bitterness by the time he got too work, thankfully they had a pot of coffee in there, waiting for him.  He promptly took advantage of it.  Granted the coffee was old, and strong and in a word horrible, but he was a cop and used to it.

Ray was still standing by the coffee machine when he saw Fraser enter the room, carrying a sleeping Elly Thatcher in his arms.  "Hay Benny!"  The detective called, as he pored his friend a cup of coffee.  The Mountie looked like he needed it.  

"Ray," Fraser's countenance brightened noticeably.  "You got here fast."

"Lets go to the lunch room, there's a couch in there she can sleep on."

"Good idea," Fraser said.  Dief was with him, so Ray had to assume that the Mountie had walked all the way from his apartment with the girl in his arms.  That was nearly ten miles, Benny might be strong, and he might be fit, but still that was a long way to carry a sixty pound kid who probably wiggled a lot.  He laid the girl down on the couch.  She had been wrapped in his plaid jacket, Fraser was wearing his leather one, along with the majority of his brown uniform.  The belt, the jacket, and the tie had been lost somewhere along the way, but he still was wearing those wired striped pants and the stupid little blue name tag.

"Here," he handed his friend the styraphome cup of coffee once his hands were free.  "Now what's this about Thatcher in you're bed?"

"I was out walking nearly all night.  When I got home she was just there, sleeping in my bed.  I suppose Diefenbaker lead her there."

"What the Dragon lady needs the wolf to find your apartment."

"What?"

"I'm just saying even I give the inspector enough credit to find you're apartment without the help of a wolf.  And I'm not in love with her."

Fraser was so preoccupied with Ray's misunderstanding, that he didn't bother commenting on the detective's second remark.  "It wasn't inspector Thatcher.  It was Elly."

He turned around to look at the still sleeping child.  Suddenly, about twenty questions that he was going to ask were answered.  But a new, unfortunate, question was formed.  "If Elly was in you're bed, than what happened to the inspector?"

Fraser looked at his coffee, "Elly's testimony is shaky at best.  But she says that a man came and strangled her."

"That it?"

"She was very frightened Ray."

"Can't blame her, how old is she?  Seven?"

"Six."

"And she found her way to you're apartment."

"Like I said, she must have followed Diefenbaker."

"Smart kid."

"Indeed."  Fraser took a deep breath and looked into his coffee.  "What are we going to do?"

"What you want to do?"

"Find her."

"Well, yha," Ray shrugged, considering that too obvious to mention.  "But there are a couple of leads we need to follow.  Like we gotta get the kid's description of the assailant, then we have . . ."

"About this much shorter than the Inspector."  He head his hands up, to show the approximate size Elly had shown him.

"Tha'd make him about five and a half feet."

"Caucasian, with no hair."

"Buzz cut?"

"Possibly, And big hands."

"Big hands?"

"That's what she said."

"Anything eles?  Anything about the face?"

"Crazy eyes."

"That helps."  Ray muttered sarcastically.

"She was really much too frightened to notice details.  But . . ."  He trailed of.  In a way he was begging Ray to finish his thought for him, because he knew Ray could, and he felt guilty finishing it himself.  If Ray finished it, it wouldn't be biased by the past.  It would be pure, well mostly pure, deductive reasoning concerning only immediate facts.

"But that sounds like a descent description of Bear Collins."  Ray said, finishing Fraser's thought.  "Lets put an APB out on the guy and pick him up."

"We have no proof Ray."

"What'cha talking about, the kid just gave a description."

"An incredibly vague description from a frightened, young witness.  Furthermore, he has no obvious motive.  What judge would give us a warrant?"

_                Ray hated to admit it, but Fraser was right.  They had no real case against Bear, all they had was a hunch, and as good as those usually proved to be, they were never strong enough to show Welsh, not to mention St.Laurant.  There was a ray of hope, however, and Fraser was about to tell Ray what he had learned about Bear the other day in the art museum, when the Inspector's parents burst into the lunchroom.  

"Constable!"  William Thacher the first practically yelled.  "What's this about Margaret?  What's going on?"

"Sir, I suggest you just calm down and . . ."  Fraser said taking a step closer.  

"Calm, calm!   We get a cryptic message about our daughter and you want us to be calm.  What's happened?"  Mrs.  Thatcher was in near tears.  She was almost an exact opposite of the woman who had told him to leave merely twelve hours ago.

"We don't know."  Ray said bluntly.

"What?"  Elizabeth wasn't calming down.

"Who is this?"  William demanded.

"Ray Vecchio, Detective First-grade, Chicago PD."  Ray said, taking a step forward, "I assure you that I'm giving full priority to this case, and I'm not going to rest until I find you're daughter."  It was obvious to everyone in the room that Ray was in total earnest.  And that surprised the Thachers and encouraged Benny.

With that assurance they were allowed to shift their panic to other matters, "Elly," Will demanded.  "Where is she?  No one said anything about Elly."

"She's here."  Fraser said, Moving slightly to the side so that they could see the bundle on the couch.  "She's sleeping."

"What happened?"  Mrs.  Thatcher asked again, this time she was much calmer.  "Pleas."

Ray took a deep breath and looked at his friend, "Benny?"  He prompted.

The Mountie licked his lips.  "From what Elly's told me we can safely deduce that She and the Inspector were in some sort of car-park.  The Inspector got out of the car, for some reason, and that's when she was attacked by a man approximately one point eight meters tall with extremely short hair and big hands."  He paused, unsure how much detail he should go into, Elly believed that her aunt was dead, and of course Fraser believed that this was just the start of Garret's predictions, and that somewhere she was siting, bound and gagged, watching.  "Elly saw everything," he continued, not going into details about what that entailed.  "It would seem that she screamed until she lost her voice.  Then Diefenbaker led her to my apartment.  I found her asleep in my bed this morning at dawn."

"Oh, my God," mer mother started to sob.  Mr. Thatcher put his arm around his wife's shoulder, and tried to set his trembling jaw, without succeeding.  Xerxes and Leo were utterly still and silent.  This was too big, to scary, too weird for them to comprehend.  Will and Cimon both had a determination in there eyes, that very much mirrored the determination in Fraser's eyes. 

Fraser saw it when he looked at Will and said, "I'm sorry."  Ray thought it was wired that his Friend was apologizing to her nephew, not her parents, but he assumed that there was a good reason.

"You're gonna find her,"  Will said.

"Yes."

"You'd better."  Again there was that threat in his voice.

"Ah," Ray said, cutting through the tension like a plastic knife through frozen butter.  "We've got a lot of work too do, and it's really hard working with family members continually under foot, so . . ."

"Oh, yes," Mr. Thatcher nodded, uncertainly.  He started to turn when Will stepped forward.  

"What about Elly?"  The young man demanded.

"We're going to need to go over a few things with her --"  Ray started.

Fraser interrupted him.  "No, we won't."

"We won't?"

"No."

"Ah, well then, in that case, you can take her."  Ray shrugged, looking at the Mountie, not the boy.  Fraser had no jurisdiction to question a witness, to attain a statement, None.  Well, Ray thought, maybe some.  This was after all a Canadian, a Mountie to boot, who had been kidnapped.  

Will scooped up the sleeping child, and was about to carry her out the door when the door was suddenly blocked by Elaine.  "Ray," she said sweetly.  "You vagabond is here again."

"Thank's Elaine."  Ray said, curtly.

"Yes Elaine, thank you kindly."  Fraser added.

Elaine smiled at them and then turned around.  Garret was right behind her and walked into the room, obviously very troubled.  "It happened."  He stuttered.  "It happened didn't it."

"Yes."  Frasre managed to say.

Garret shook his head.  "You should have stopped it."

"I tried."  Fraser's voice almost cracked, but he managed to catch himself.

"We should go," Mrs. Thatcher said, obviously upset by the transient.  "Boys."  She prompted, ushering them out.  Garret looked at them wide-eyed.  "She's yours."  He finally said, after Mrs. Thatcher, Xerxes, Leo, and Will carrying Elly were out the door.  Only Cimon and her father heard it.

"Excuse me?"  The Diplomat asked politely.

Cimon wasn't so polite.  "You know."  He said, somewhat stunned.  "You know about Aunt Meg."

"I'm sorry."  Garret said softly.

"He knows!"  Cimon practically yelled.  "He knows arrest him!"

"Knowing about a crime doesn't make you a criminal."  Ray said.

"But, but," Cimon stuttered.  He had seemed to take the news well when he first heard, but now that it was sinking in, and he was told there was nothing he could do, every thing became overpowering.  "Why else would he know?"  Tears were forming in the twelve year olds eyes.  "Come on, arrest him."

"Look kid," Ray said softly.  "We're gonna find the guy who really did this, and we're going to arrest him. And he's going to wish he'd stayed the hell away from you're aunt.  But what kind of cops would we be if we arrested the guy who didn't do it just because we wanted to arrest someone.  You gotta know the difference between friend and foe, kiddo."

"Let's go Cimon."  His Grandfather said softly, ushering the boy out.  Tears were starting to tumble down the boy's cheeks and he was sniffling.  Ray just added those tears to the long list of reasons to find Meg Thatcher, fast.        

***

Meg was very cold.  She had lost her trench coat somewhere along the line and so was in the ungodly cold with only her cotton sweater and jeans on.  She knew she wouldn't freezes to death, it wasn't cold enough for that, but still, she was miserable.  

Of course the cold was only part of the problem, the ropes on her hands were too tight.  The more she struggled at her bonds the tighter they got.  She had stopped struggling when her fingers started to tingle.  At present her hands were entirely numb.

Her hair was in her eyes, and it was driving her crazy.  She thought it was making her eyes itch.  It was more annoying than the cold and the numbness combined because it was a simple stupid thing that remedied her that she was a prisoner.  Her nose was bleeding too, and she couldn't wipe the blood away.  At first she just thought her nose was running, from the cold, but that was before she saw the crimson droplets fall on her numb hand

Her throat hurt too.  It was a sort of scratching ache.  The schrahyness was due to the fact that her mouth was permanently opened by a thick gag, that was too tight.  She couldn't moisten her mouth, or swallow.  Needless to say she was extremely thirsty.  If she had known how exactly she had been incapacitated by her kidnapper that ache would have made sense.  But as it was, she could remember parking the car in front of the consulate and very little else. 

One thing that she did remember was that Elly had been with her when whatever had happened happened, and Elly wasn't with her now.  Meg didn't know if that was good or bad.  She had to assume that it was good.  If she allowed herself to think that because if anything bad had happened to her niece she wouldn't have been able to cope.  So she continued to tell herself that Elly was fine; that the wolf had somehow taken care of the little girl and right now she was safe with her grandparents.  Sort of little-red-riding-hood in reveres.  Assured by this thought, Meg was able to forget her physical uncomforted, her overwhelming confusion and disorientation, and concentrate on what she was seeing.  She was an inspector, a trained observer, and she knew that as the victim she had a responsibility not to panic, she had to keep a clear mind and remember everything. 

They were in a woods, she had no idea why they were there, or how they got there, but there they were.  It appeared thick, she couldn't see how any clearings at all.  She didn't know how long she had been out, or how far they had gone, but she knew that they couldn't have been anywhere near Chicago.  The forest was too thick, and she couldn't hear the cars or the other people sounds that were so comforting.  The forest was silent, the only noise came from the man.

She had to assume the man was her kidnapper, or at least an accomplice.  He saw her, and heard her, he had to have.  He was working within a ten-meter radius of her.  Meg couldn't see what exactly he was doing, but she knew she saw knifes, and ropes, and pointed sticks.  She carefully noted where he worked, and what he did.  She didn't understand it, but she had a feeling that in time she would.  Occasionally he looked over to where she was tied under a huge cedar tree.  He had laced the rope that bound her hands through one of the tree's roots.  She had tried to pull the root out, or brake it, but that only resulted in numb hands.  He would smile at her, wistfully almost, and then go back to work.

To Be Continued . . . .


	9. Eight

**Chapter 8**

Ray loved Margaret Thatcher.  Not in the way Benny loved her, truth was he couldn't stand the woman, her superior attitude, the way she belittled Fraser, the way she ignored him.  Oh, Ray hated people like that.  But regardless, he loved Meg Thatcher.

He loved the fact that he could respect her.  He knew that no matter what she wouldn't compromise and he knew that she had a very defined sense of right and wrong and a very clear vision of who she was.  He had to respect those things.  And he had to respect that of all the women he knew, she was the most stable.  Of course that meant she was a bitch all the time, never lapsing into sweetness. But at least with her, you knew what you were getting, one hundred percent, all the time.

But most of all, he loved her because she wasn't going to hurt Fraser.  He knew that his Mountie Friend had a thing for his Mountie boss.  Benny could hide his emotions form himself, but they were clear to Ray.  And Ray was getting this sick feeling that she was reciprocating some of those feelings.  He loved that Meg wasn't going to lead Benny on.  She wasn't going to break his heart, at least not intentionally.  She wasn't going to frame him for her crimes, and she wasn't going to try and kill him.  All reasons to love Meg Thatcher.

Yes, she was mean, cruel even, at times.  But a lot of that came with the title and the career and having to fight hard in a man's world.  Ray could see that kind of attitude in a lot of the professional women he knew, Easter Pearson, McKenzie King, and especially Louis St.Lauren.  And he knew that Fraser wouldn't really get close to a person unless they were willing to treat him like dirt.  He was friendly to everyone, and tons of people thought of him as their friend.  But until you've let Benton Fraser know that you don't think he's anything special, he's not going to trust you, to let you in.

Ray didn't know why that was.  He thought it might have something to do with the fact that Fraser didn't really like being the worlds nicest human, because that made him different.  He wanted to be normal, so naturally he was attracted to those who weren't going to treat him like the saint he was, but rather like a mere mortal with faults and problems.  Or maybe he was just incredibly cautious in trusting people.  Really trusting people, trusting them not with flimsy things like his life and his career, because those could be lost on a whim.  But with things like who he was, because when you get down to it, that's all any of us have.  Maybe he only trusted those people who were able and willing to see both the good and the bad and were willing to love both parts regardless.

In any event, Fraser trusted her, and he loved her.  And in some queer way, Ray loved her.  And he wasn't going to let anything happen to her, if for no other reason, then for Benny's sake.

Garret hadn't been able to add anything, beyond recognition of her family.  He had come just in case they hadn't figured out who it was, he wanted to give them every advantage that he could.  His thoughtfulness was rewarded with a coffee and a sandwich.  He left a little fuller, but no more assured.  Her pain was still with him, her fear and her hope still fought in his breast.  A sandwich didn't fix that.

Sitting at the table in the lunchroom, Fraser was drawing up a chart of where Meg had been last night, and when.

"Elly said that she left the hotel no more than fifteen minutes after I did."

"You really interrogated that little kid, didn't you?"

"So we'll say she left the hotel around six twenty."  He jotted that down on the top of a yellow legal pad.  "Then, again according to Elly, she went by the consulate."

"Travel time?"

"Approximately twenty minutes."

"Six forty."

"Which would concur with Mr. Mustaffie's claim that she called him just before seven."

"Is there anyone you didn't ask?"

"After that, Elly said they came here."

"Travel time ten minutes."

"The desk sergeant's log places her here at seven-oh-eight.  It has her leaving here at seven-twenty-six."

"They must have wrung her through the ringer."

"By this time Elly was hungry, they stopped at a fast food restaurant."

"About thirty minutes?"

"Possibly.  She called Mr. Mustaffie again around seven-forty-five, and she also called my office at the consulate at seven-fifty-three." 

"Ok, so they eat, then what?"

"Then she remembers the dinner."

"Great, after diner."

"They drive over."

"Anything from twenty five minutes to half an hour, depending."

"Closer to half an hour.  I had another call at the consult at eight-thirty-five, and accordingly Mr. Mustaffe received a call.  At this point he asked her not to call again."

"Tenacity has its draw backs."

"And then Elly said she saw a nice old lady."

"That would be my mother."

"You're mother?"

"Yha, she stopped by a little after nine."

"She went to you're house!"  Fraser was shocked, he totally forgot about his meticulous notes.

"Well, where else do you think would I see her?"

"Certainly not at your house."

"She was all wound up, had looked everywhere for you.  She said she wanted to return Dief."

"But you think it was more of that."

"She could have dropped the wolf off at you're apartment, or left him at the consulate if that was all she was worried about.  Why'd you leave her?  I thought that . . ."

"Her parents made it abundantly clear that my presence was less than welcome."

"So you left Dief behind to protect her?"

"Not intentionally."

"I would say it was a good thing that you did."

Fraser took a deep breath and leaned back in his chair.  In so doing he remembered his list.  "How long did she stay at you're house?"

"I don't know, half hour maybe.  Maybe less."

"We'll say she left around nine thirty, is that safe?"

"Probably."

"Elaine!"  Fraser called out of the blue.  Ray turned around to see the pretty civilian aid, who had clearly just been walking by but was now frozen in the doorway. 

"Yes?"

Fraser left the table and walked over to her.  He pulled a small slip of white paper out of his pocket and handed it too her.  "Now, I don't have a prescription, but, do you think you could get me some of this drug?"

Elaine looked up at Fraser, than down at the paper nervously.  "I don't know.  Hospitals are pretty up tight about this kind of things."

"It's most importunate."

Again Elaine looked at Fraser uncertainly.  Finally his honest gaze won out.   She took the piece of paper.  "I'll see what I can do."

"Thank you kindly, Elaine."

"Oh and Ray," Elaine said, pausing as she was about to leave.  "The Lieutenant was wondering if you were going to stay in the lunch room all day or actually do any work."

"Ah, you can tell him that I am working.  Missing person."

Elaine glanced over her shoulder, "I think you can tell him yourself." She scooted away, which left the door way wide open for Harrding Welsh.

Both Ray and Fraser snapped to attention.  "Ah," Welsh said, as he walked past them towards the Coffee.  "This I like, this is good.  Standing at attention while I poor my coffee."

Fraser looked at Ray uncertainly.  He could never quite tell when the Lieutenant was serious or joking.

"This however, does not explain why you've spent the first hour of you're day here at work in the lunch room talking to you're friend here instead of at you're desk working."

"I am working sir, Missing persons."

"Funny, I don't remember assigning you a missing persons case."  Welsh started out the door.  Ray and Benny followed, knowing that the conversation was far from over.

"Yes well, this just, ah, came up.  But I think you'll agree that it deserves my full attention."

"Oh, really, you think I'll agree."  Welsh's voice made it clear that he didn't agree with the detective.  They reached the Lieutenant's office and Ray and Fraser followed him in.  Fraser shut the door before he was asked to.  "Now why wasn't I informed about this, oh so important, case right away?"

"If you'll allow me Left-tenet."  Fraser said, glancing first at Welsh, than at Ray.

"Go ahead."  Welsh said, leaning back and getting ready for a long monologue.

"You see, there is a certain sense of urgency about this case.  We were anticipating it, and accordingly trying to prevent the actual abduction . . ."

"So this was a kidnapping?"

"Oh, certainly."  Fraser said quickly.  "But upon discovering Elly Thatcher in my bed this morning, and accordingly deducing that her aunt had been accosted.  We realized that we had failed in our prevention techniques.  Naturally, we started working on the case as soon as we could.  I have already taken Elly's statement, and with that information, as well as information from detective Vecchio and other sources we have been able to sketch out a rough itinerary of the victim's actions the previous night, there by concluding that she was kidnapped between the hours of nine-thirty p.m. and four a.m."  He leaned forward put the itinerary on the Lieutenants desk.  "So, clearly, progress has been made." Welsh picked it up and glanced at it without actually reading anything.

"This is very good," Welsh said, "Very thorough.  I'm just left with one question.  Who was kidnapped?"

"Inspector Meg Thatcher, Sir."  Ray answered before Benny had to.

"Isn't that . . ."

"Yes sir, it is."

"Ah," Welsh said, suddenly understanding.  "Because this is a personal thing I'm going to over look this breach in procedure.  But, because this is an international thing, and a kidnapping, I'm going to have to call the feds."

"No."  Ray said angrily.  "You know them.  They'll send Fords and Deeter and they'll be stupid.  They'll kick us of the case and she'll end up dead."  Ray didn't see Fraser suddenly blanch.  

Welsh did. "That is why I advise you to find her before the boy's from Washington get here," the told them seriously.  

***

Meg was thirsty.  That sensation overpowered every other discomfort. The hunger, the cold, the numbness, the cramps, the headaches, they were secondary to the thirst.  She tried to get the man's attention, to make enough noise to get him to look at her.  But then she realized that he probably knew her situation better than she did.  He must have known that she would get thirsty and hungry, he must not have cared.  That was disconcerting.

Around midday, he stopped.  At this point Meg pushed herself into a slightly more upright position.  She felt dizzy for a second but it passed.  He was walking towards her and his eyes frightened her.  There was something unnatural about them, as if they were detached from his body.  Meg had never subscribed to the poet's notion that the eyes were the windows to the sole.  She admitted that a lot could be learned from them, but that had more to do with subconscious behaviors than a person's sole.  But still, the eyes had always been connected to the body, they had always seemed to mach the person they went with.  These eyes didn't.  Meg couldn't have explained it at her best, and tied under a cedar tree, overcome by thirst, she was not at her best.   The only thing she could compare it to were pictures she had seen of mass-murders in text books and in the news.  People with out conscience, remorse, or guilt.  Meg suddenly felt ten degrees colder.

She couldn't really move.  Her hands were numb, but when she tried to scoot away from her kidnapper, the ropes tightened and pain shot up her arms.  Her eyes watered.    She didn't bother to make any sound, that hurt to much.  Unfortunately her position didn't give her any leverage to fight back, or defend herself.  There was no real leverage to kick, she couldn't bite, and she had never learned the useful art of head butting.  So when he put his huge hand in her hair and took out the hunting knife, all Meg could do was pray.  And pray she did.

He was humming to himself a happy little tune, totally unaware that what he was doing was pure evil.  Meg watched, trying very hard not to tense up, as the man took the hunting knife, and instead of going towards her throat, he reached up towards her hairline.  For as split second she was sure that he was going to scalp her.  She wasn't even entirely sure of what that initialed but she knew that it would be very painful.  He smiled down at her as, with the knife in his hand, he pulled a lock of her hair apart form the rest of it and, with a flip of the wrist, he cut it off.  He chuckled to himself softly, apparently thinking her hair was some grand joke that she just wasn't going to get, then he turned, as if he were going to leave.  But then he thought better of it and returned his attentions to her.

Licking his lips he took his hunting knife and carefully eased it into the shoulder of her sweater.  Somehow, with the huge serrated knife he managed to pull one cotton thread out of her sweater.  He cut it off neatly and tied it around the lock he had stolen.  Then humming merrily to himself he got up and walked away. When he reached the ten-meter radius he was very careful, but once he safely passed that he walked further and further into the woods, until Meg couldn't see him any longer.

To Be Continued. . .


	10. Nine

**Chapter 9**

"Now I want you to trace you're steps back to where you where last night."  Fraser said, pronouncing every word clearly, looking Dief straight in the eyes.  "Take us to the spot where Inspector Thatcher was accosted."  It was nearly three o'clock and Fraser was feeling the day slip through his fingers.  Things had to start happening, they couldn't flounder in their state of not knowing much longer, because if they did they would never find Meg, just her body.

Dief licked his chops, whimpered and than started trotting west at a quick pace, Ray and Fraser had to almost jog to keep up.  After they had walked about a block, silently Ray looked at Fraser and attempted to make conversation.  "So, how was babysitting the little kids?"

"Hectic at times, but over all a rewarding experience."

"Rewarding, you're telling me that keeping an eye on five hyperactive children was rewarding."

"There were certain rewards."

"Did those rewards get you kicked out of the family?"

"Beg you're pardon?"

"Never mind.  So, how many kids were there, five?"

"Yes.  Will, Cimon, Xerxes, Leo and of course Elly."

"Which one wanted me to arrest Garret?"

"Cimon."

Ray smiled.  "I like that kid."

"In many way's Cimon reminded me of you."

"A real prince, huh?"

"No."  Fraser said, shaking his head.  He was trying not to smile.

Ray hit his friend affectionately on the shoulder.  "So, Simon . . ."  He started.

"Cimon."

"What?"

"His name is Cimon, pronounced with a Kay."

"Cimon.  Who names a kid Cimon? That's not a name!"

"Well, actually it is.  You see Cimon was the leader of the Delian league in 467 B.C. when they destroyed the Persian fleet."

"Oh," Ray said sarcastically.

"Actually, all of the Inspector's Brother's children are named after famous Greeks."

"Except Will,"

"Well, yes, that's a family name.  And of course Xerxes was a Persian king.  And Elly's proper name is Helen, after Helen of troy, who was most likely a fictional character created by Homer."

"So that just leave's Leo, right."

"He was named for Leonidas, the Spartan king."

"Who names their kid's after famous Greeks?"

"A professor of history specializing in the Greek and Persian wars between 546 and 467 B.C."  

Ray was silent for a while longer.  As they were passing the dinner three blocks west of the consulate he asked.  "So, how do you know so much about the Inspectors family?"

"I beg you're pardon?"

"I mean, how do you know that her brother is a Greek scholar and that her father was a diplomat and everything."

Fraser shrugged.  "How do I know anything about you're family?"

"Maybe because you have dinner with us twice a week.  Come'on, you don't go over to Thatcher's and discuss family histories," He paused, realizing that that statement wasn't as off the wall as it should have been.  "Do you?"

"No Ray."

"Than how do you know?"

"I don't know, I guess I just acquired the knowledge . . . somewhere."

"You're not stocking her are you."

"Ray."

"I'm not saying I'd arrest you or anything if you where.  I'm just curious."

"No Ray, I am not stocking inspector Thatcher.  If I was . . ." his voice trailed of, almost sadly. 

Ray cleared his throat and shifted the subject "So, can you do it with other people too?"

"Do what?"

"You know, recite their family history and stuff."

"Well . . ."

"How bout Welsh?  How much you know about him?"

"He is the elder of two brothers.  Wilson being his younger brother by a year.  Wilson is a sheriff in a small community in southern Illinois.  Their mother was a housewife until she died when the boy's were in high school.  There father was a solder in World War Two, he serving a tour in Germany, when he came home he joined the Chicago police department where he was a patrol officer for thirty years until he retired.  Presently he is living off of his pension in an apartment building on the west side of town."

"You're making that up."

"I am most certainly not."

"Yha, sure you are."

"You can go in and ask Lt. Welsh yourself."

"You would just love that wouldn't you."

***

 "You know."  Ray said, as the consulate came into view.  "I think you're wolf is broken."

"No," Fraser said, his voice was distracted.  Ray knew the Mountie's brain was working over time, putting it all together.  "This makes perfect sense.  You said she was looking for me last night?"

"Yha, trying to get rid of Dief."

"She had been looking for a long time, several hours.  Now she had Elly with her, so she didn't want to go into my neighborhood."

"Who could blame her?"

"But she wasn't willing to merely let him lose, she had to be assured he was safe for the night, and that I would find him.  Where would the most logical place be?"

"The consulate." 

"Exactly."

They found the car parked in its spot, passenger door wide open, radio gone, but otherwise intact.  "You know, thieves today, there not the same caliber as when I was a kid."  Ray mused, "do you know how easy it would be to hot wire this thing?"

"Well, it's a good neighborhood Ray."  Fraser said, leaning into the car.  

"The didn't even strip the tiers."

Elly's backpack had been rummaged through, and if the Inspector had had her purse with her it was long gone.  Not surprisingly he didn't find anything in the car.  According to Elly the struggle had gone on outside, all the doors had been closed.  Giving up on the car's interior Fraser turned his attention to the area surrounding the car.  There were no signs of a struggle, but black top didn't lend itself well to leaving signs of anything.  It had no history and (not for the first time) that drove Fraser nuts.  

"Hay," Ray asked.  "Think the kidnapper did that?"  He was pointing to deep scratches in the backseat window on the driver's side.  It had several vertical scratches all across it.  They were deep, it would take something pretty strong, Ray knew, to make those marks.

Deif whimpered.  Fraser looked at his wolf than looked back up at his friend .  "Diefenbaker made them.  He was trying to get out."

"Wow."  Ray said, "I hope I never get on you're wolf's bad side."

"Nothing," Fraser sighed.  "Absolutely nothing." They had no clues, and consequently, no hope.

"Ben!"  A sharp voice called out from behind a near by alley.  Both cops jumped and quickly turned to see Bear Collins walking up cordially.  "Waht'ca doing?"

If Ray or Fraser had been porcupines their spikes would have been out.  As it was, Benny seemed to stand about two inches taller than he had before and Ray put his hands on his hips, so that his gun was ever so slightly visible beneath the folds of his Armani coat.  "What are you doing here?"  Ray asked, playing it cool.

"I just came by to say goodbye to ya, Ben.  My business is finished."

"What business might that be?"  Ray demanded.

"So goodbye."  Bear said, totally ignoring Ray.  He walked past the Detective and stretched out his hand to shake.  Benny looked at it as if Bear was some alien, some strange apparition.  Never the less, Fraser reached out and took Bear's hand.  

From Ray's perspective everything happened in the blink of an eye.  Fraser was reaching out to bear one second, and the next Bear was pined up against the car and the Mountie was reciting the guy his rights.

"What?"  Ray asked running up to his friend.  "What happed?"

"You have the right to an attorney."  Fraser said, then turning to Ray he asked, "Cuffs?"

Ray gave his buddy the handcuffs without qualm.  "Come on, Fraser, what changed?"

"If you can not afford an attorney one will be appointed to you."  Fraser said as he quickly snapped the cuffs on.  "Now, do you have any questions?"

"You can't arrest me!"  Bear said, struggling under Fraser's iron grip.  "I'm you're friend."

"No, you're not."  Ben said Pulling Bear away from the car and leading him to the Riv.

"What did he do?"  Ray demanded, trying to catch up in more than one way.  "You may be good at reading a guy, but Fraser not even you can tell if a man kidnapped someone by their handshake."

"I can if he slips me this."  Fraser said, handing Ray a lock of dark hair tied with a red thread.

"Oh," Ray said, holding the lock in front of him.  "God."

***

"I've got rights you know. Just because I'm not American doesn't mean you can treat me like this!"  Bear screamed as Ray speed to the 27th precinct house.  Had he been all there he would have realized that neither Ray nor Fraser gave a damn about his particular rights, and considering what he did, they were treating him wonderfully.  Ray was accumulating a long list of things he would do and say to the guy once Fraser was gone.  Fraser was trying to remember every conversation he had ever had with Bear, trying to piece together the puzzle now that he knew what the picture was.

"So," Ray said, blatantly ignoring the screaming mad man in the back seat.  "How 'bout Elaine?"

Fraser was totally taken aback by the statement.  "What?"

"Elaine, do her family history."

"Oh, well,"  Fraser said welcoming the change in conversation.  "She has an older and a younger sister.  Her older sister presently manages her family's flower shop which is on Ohio Street."

"Nice location," Ray mused.

"Her younger sister is studying pharmacy at the University of Illinois Champaign/Urbana."

"Anything else?  anything about her second cousin half removed on her mother's side that moved to Cleveland, or anything?"                

"Josie moved to Cleveland?"

Ray shook his head in disgust.  "Can you do Huie?"

"I could, but I think it might upset you."

"Ah, you're probably right."   Ray admitted as they pulled up to the station house.  Ten minutes later Fraser was sitting in interview one with Bear Collins, and Ray was watching threw the mirror in interview two.

"Where is Inspector Thatcher?"  Fraser asked, his voice measured, almost rigged.  He was sitting with his back to the mirror so that Ray could see Bear's expressions.  Truth be told Ray would rather have seen Benny.  Fraser was angry, Ray new.  Benny hid that sort of thing well, and a year ago Ray wouldn't have suspected his friend of anger, no matter what the circumstances.  But, Ray understood Fraser like few people did.  The emotions that Fraser surprised the most, such as anger and love, were the ones that he felt the most powerfully.   He had learned that the hard way, with the help of Gerrard and Victoria.  And now this guy was pushing all of the Mountie's buttons. 

"Her name is Meg right?  I know it's fully Margaret, but doesn't she like to go by Meg?"

"Where is Inspector Thatcher?"

"Meg, Meg, Meg and Ben, Ben and Ray.  Less tan three letter's each.  Gotta keep it simple, don't want any confusion."

Fraser was not amused by this observation.  "You gave me a lock of her hair.  Now, where is Inspector Thatcher?"

"Have you ever felt her hair?"  Bear asked, leaning forward in his chair.  "Or have you just imagined?  Well let me satisfy that killer curiosity of yours.  Her hair is soft, very soft.  Like a rabbit in the spring.  You know, before they lose their winter coat.  Which by the way she lost.  I imagine she's quite cold."

"Where is Inspector Thatcher?"

"And she smells fresh, I couldn't figure it out.  At first I thought it was some perfume or something.  I kept expecting it to where off, to dull.  But no, the sent stayed.  I was truly amazed."

"Where is Inspector Thatcher?"

"You've found them haven't you?  The bodies in the woods, all hard and bloated.  People who died of the elements."

"Where is Inspector Thatcher?"  Fraser's mock calm was wearing thin. 

"Of course the elements usually mean dehydration, occasionally starvation.  Cold has something to do with it, but you and I know that this kind of weather couldn't kill anybody."

"Where is Inspector Thatcher?"

"You know what Ben?  I could have killed her a thousand times.  Do you know how easy it would have been for me to have just pressed a little harder that night outside of car with the kid screaming?  Pressed a little harder and crushed her trachea."

"Where is Inspector Thatcher?"

"Or broken her ribs, all of them.  Just one hard kick, shove those bones right into the soft internal organs.  It would take a while, she'd be in a lot of pain, but she'd be dead by now I'd wager."

"Where is Inspector Thatcher?"  Ray got the feeling that Fraser was repeating himself because he didn't trust himself to say anything else.

"Or snapped her neck, put my hand in her thick, soft, fresh smelling hair, and just twisted.  Simple as that."

"Where is Inspector Thatcher?"  

"But of course I had my knife with me too.  One flick of the wrist and blood would go everywhere and she'd be dead."

Every scenario that Bear presented Fraser worked out in his mind, only with a slightly different cast of characters.  Without trying to, he envisioned himself, strangling Bear, then beating him to a pulp, then snapping his neck or slitting his throat.  He didn't know if that eased or fueled the rage that was building up inside of him, but he couldn't help himself.  He made every effort to stay calm, and ask until his question was answered.  "Where is Inspector Thatcher?"

"You're getting monotonous."  Bear said.  "I'm going to tell you.  I really am.  Just not now.  Tomorrow, or the next day, maybe.  I do want you to find her Ben.  Oh, I really do."

"That's it."  Ray muttered as he stormed out of the dark interview room.

"I had to see Lisa at her worst before I lost her forever."  Bear rambled on.  "That's all I want you to do.  See her at her worst before, or perhaps slightly after you lose her forever."

To Be Continued. . .


	11. Ten

**Chapter 10**

In the ten feet between the two interview rooms Ray was stopped by Elaine.  She could see that he was mad, almost furious, but it didn't scare her one bit.  "Where's Fraser?"

"In there, but he's with a suspect so--"

"Could you just give him these."  Elaine said, handing Ray a little vile of pills.  "There the med's he asked for."

Ray took the bottle and read the label.  The long word on it reveled nothing to him.  "What are they for?"

"Psychotics.  I guess they suppress aggressive behaviors or something.  Just make sure Fraser doesn't take them.  They can lead to sever depression for a normal person."

"Yha, well I think you give him too much credit calling him normal, but don't worry there not for him." Ray said as he pushed past Elaine and walked into interview one.  "Hay Frasers, think fast."  Ray said, once inside as he tossed the meds to the Mountie.

Benny caught them, read the label and then placed them squarely on the table.  

"What's those?"  Bear asked nervously.

"They're for you."  Fraser said.  He had somehow re-acquired his unearthly calm.

Bear reached forward and picked up the bottle.  He read the label and suddenly became very, very angry.  He threw the meds at Fraser violently.  "You saying I'm crazy?"

"I didn't think it needed to be said."  Ray commented dryly from the corner where he could keep an eye on both Bear and Benny.

"I don't need these, They don't make a difference."

"But they used to, didn't they?"  Fraser asked, leaning forward.  "When you were in prison you started to take them, didn't you?  They kept you out of trouble."

"Yha, when I was twenty and didn't know a damned thing.  But I'm far beyond that."

"Are you?  Look at you're position.  You are presently in a police station, being held for the very serious crime of kidnapping and unless you help us, murder.  I would say you are presently in quite a bit of trouble."

"You're police officers.  You wouldn't hinder justice would you?  You wouldn't stop the mighty force of fairness.  God, it even sounds poetic."

"Justice?"  Fraser asked, he was lost. 

"Justice.  You fried Lisa, the one woman I loved . . ."

"Woman you loved!"  Ray interjected.  "You were thirteen!  You hadn't even gone threw puberty yet!" 

Right as he yelled that the door to the Interrogation room swung open and Louis St. Laurent stormed in.  "Vecchio, Get out here!"  She said, making it clear that no was not an option.

"Don't mess with this Louis," Ray warned.

"Mess with this?  The fact that you have a Canadian citizen held on questionable charges and no solid evidence with no one to represent him?  This is a nightmare Vecchio, even you know that!"

Fraser took a deep breath and stood up, which surprised Ray and Louis.  They both knew that the Mountie was terrified of her.  "Mrs. St. Laurent, you have to trust that Detective Vecchio and myself are treating this case with the utmost care and we are following the letter of the law rigidly."

"I don't trust Detective Vecchio, or you, Constable.  I want . . ."

"You know what, Louis, no one cares what you want."  Ray said bluntly.

Louis was taken aback.  Ray was always crude and raw, but that was just professional crudeness.  She even respected it.  But, she could tell by the intensity on Ray's face and the firmness in Fraser's voice that this wasn't professional, this was personal.  And Louis was smart enough to stay out of their way, but she still had a job to do.  "I'm going to talk to Welsh."

"You do that."  Ray said as Louis stormed out of the room.

"I like her," Bear said absent-mindedly.

"Where is inspector Thatcher?"

"Would you stop asking me that question!"

"Only if you answer it."  Ray said.  Benny's technique had seemed useless up to now, but it appeared to be working.  

"She's north, ok?  Due north.  Up and up.  Closer to heaven."

"Got a street address?"  Ray demanded.

"That wouldn't help."  Fraser said as he walked to the door and exited the interrogation room.  

Ray looked at Fraser, then at Bear.  "Stay here."  Ray said threateningly.  "And if you get hungry feel free to pop a few pills."

***

_              "Ok," Ray said once they were in the Riv, on the interstate, and heading north.  "Where we going?"

"Illinois Beach State Park."  Fraser turned to his friend.  "You do know where that is, don't you."

"Sure, I've been there.  Picnics on Fourth of July and all.  But its north west, not due north."

"Well naturally, Ray.  Due north is the middle of lake Michigan."

"Not if you go up into Wisconsin, or the U.P. of Michigan."

"Yes, but that would be a journey of several hours, he didn't have time for that."  Fraser explained.  "He's hidden her in a wilderness, but he managed to do it in just over twelve hours.  That means the wilderness had to be close."

"Could be six hours away," Ray pointed out.  "He could have sped up to some place in Wisconsin, dropped her off, then sped back down."

"No, he was waiting for us at the car, he had been waiting for some time, probably sense dawn."

"How can you know that?"

"The alley he steeped out of had fast food wrappers in it.  He ate lunch there."

"How can you know that?  I mean really Fraser, those wrappers could have been from anything at all."

"It was windy,"

"It's Chicago,"

"But they hadn't blown away.  Whoever discarded them had done so recently, before the wind could get them."

"But what if they had blown there?"  Ray asked.

"The cup, french-fry pack, and the sandwich wrapper, all blown to the exact same place?"

"It's possible."

"Highly unlikely, besides, I smelled hamburger on his breath."

"And you couldn't have said this straight out."

"I don't see how the order in witch I presented the facts makes a difference."

"Never mind," Ray sighted.

***

It was well after dark by the time they got to the park.  The Ranger's gave them a hard time, claiming that they hadn't been given official notice, and that if there was any searching to be done in the relatively small State Park the Ranger service would have to lead the search, knowing so much more about tracking techniques and wilderness survival than a couple of city slickers from Chicago.  Ray showed his badge and then his gun and told them that if they were in the mood to start thrashing through the woods looking for a Dragon Lady they would be perfectly welcome too.

In the end the Superintendent of the Forrest services were called and Ray and Benny were allowed to plow through the park alone, without assistance until word came from higher up that they were to be assisted.  

"So how do we find her?"  Ray asked as they crawled down the park's poorly paved roads at ten miles per hour.

"He wants me to find her, The trail will be obvious."

"Maybe he wanted to lead you too her, see you're reaction."

"Still, he would have to mark a trail.  All we have to do is find the trailhead and then we'll find the Inspector.  Besides we have Diefenbaker, he's wonderful at tracking when he wants to be."

Ray nodded and the drove the next few miles in silence, so when Fraser almost yelled "Stop!"  Ray slammed on the brakes.

"What, what?  Is there a dear, a rabbit, a possum?"

"A trail head."  Fraser said, opening the Riv's door and getting out of the car.

Ray put the car in park, let Dief out, and then followed the Mountie to the edge of the wood, which to him looked exactly the same as the edge of the wood for the past ten miles.  "I don't see a thing."

"Look," Fraser said, pointing at the forest floor.  "A cedar branch."

"In a forest, Fraser, what a surprise."

"Look around you, Ray.  Do you see a cedar tree anywhere near here."

Ray looked around.  He didn't know dog from cottonwood, but he could clearly see that the branch Fraser had pointed to was from a red fur tree, while they seemed to be in a grove of birch.  Even Ray could see the difference.  

Dief whimpered and pawed at the branch.  Fraser looked down, concerned, kneeled and then pulled a out a single brown hair that had been woven in the pine bristles.  He looked at Dief and simply said, "Find her."  The wolf barked and bounded into the forest.  Benny was after him in a second.

He was almost lost in the darkness and thickness of the forest when Ray yelled, "I'll call for Backup!"

He thought that he heard Fraser yell some acknowledgment, but he wasn't sure.  In any event he called the ranger station which had yet to get approval to start searching through the woods, and then he called Welsh.

***

Meg's thoughts drifted in and out.  She thought about death, but never for very long, and never very seriously.  She just couldn't concentrate long enough to form any concise thought.  She thought about her family, and about her work, and about Fraser.  She would stumble upon some great truth, about herself, or her relationships, and then the next second it would slip from her mind and she wouldn't be able to recall it if she remembered she had had it in the first place.

Her mind wandered in and out of her past, too.  She would close her eyes and find herself in her parent's bedroom, and her mother would be getting dressed for some party.  She could hear the radio playing in the background and smell the potpourri.  She would think that her mother was so pretty in her party dress and make up.  She wanted to go to the party too, to put on her best dress, and have her hair done, and look like a princess.  Meg wanted that very badly, but then reality would grab her and she would realize she couldn't be a six year old girl, because she was a Mountie. 

Then she would close her eyes and she'd be in her desk at legal affairs in Ottawa, and she thought about all the work she had to do, and suddenly she found herself dreading going into the office.  Dreading facing Hennrie because then she would have to gently refuse him without offending him, and she dreaded not facing him, because she could feel his eyes on her, even when he wasn't in the room.  But then she remembered that she wasn't in Ottawa, because she had told Hennrie no, once and for all, clearly and simply.

Then she closed her eyes and dreamed she was in a bed that was two small for one person, never the less two.  But it didn't matter, because she didn't mind being close.  But then she opened her eyes, and was hit by reality.  She was cold, and alone, tied under a tree.  And the fact of the matter was there was no reason to believe that would change in her lifetime. 

Regardless, Meg didn't give up, she wasn't even close to giving up.  It wasn't in her nature.

Needless to say, when she heard her name, well actually her rank and last name, being shouted through the woods she thought that it was just another trick of her mind.  And when she actually saw the white wolf and Fraser coming closer to her in the darkness, she was sure her eyes were really closed.

It wasn't until she felt him brush the hair out of her eyes that she realized that her eyes were open, and this was real.  She tried to say something, say his name, say anything, but her gag prevented her.

"Are you all right sir?"  He asked like an idiot, as he took out a hunting knife of his own, much smaller than the one her kidnapper had used and cut her gag off.

It felt wonderful to close her mouth, absolutely wonderful.  Still her mouth and throat were dry, she tried to salivate, to moisten them, but she couldn't.  

Fraser had cut the rope that had bound her hands, and was gently messaging them in his own, trying to get the circulation going again.  He looked up, catching her eyes in his, and asked, "He didn't hurt you, did he?"  

Again, Meg was struck by the totally lunacy of the question.  Yes he'd hurt her, he'd hurt her and he'd scared her, and she was most definitely not all right.  And she tried to tell him.  She opened her mouth, expecting well formed words to come out, like they had ever sense she could remember, but instead all that came out was a half stuttered mess, totally indecipherable.  Her tongue felt too big for her mouth and, although she didn't notice it, her entire body was trembling.

Fraser looked at her with his clear blue eyes, and she could see the concern.  She didn't want his concern. She tried to tell him that, but again she merely stuttered, totally indecipherable.  

The frustration seemed to magnify her trembling.  Instead of the slight quake to keep away the cold, her shaking became almost violent.

Meg glanced in his eyes, then quickly glanced away again.  She was horribly ashamed, even thought she couldn't think of the word for what she was feeling.  She just knew that she was not in control of herself, or of the situation.  She didn't want him to see her like this, this week and fragile.  She would have cried, but she didn't have any tears.  Forcing a deep breath she decided to try talking again.  She looked up, and her hair was in her eyes.  She didn't even notice it, but Fraser did.  

Ever sense his interview with Gerrat, which seemed much more than three days ago, he had a vivid mental image of her with hair in her eyes.  It frightened him, it was almost a symbol of this whole ordeal, everything boiled down to her having hair in her eyes.  It seemed imperative to him, symbolically, to make sure her hair stayed back.  He pushed it away, which allowed him to see her eyes.

Suddenly, facts he already knew took form.  She had been frightened; she needed to be comforted.  She had been hurt; she needed to be cared for.  She had been abused; she needed to be safe.  She had been treated harshly; she needed to be treated tenderly.  She had been hated; she needed to be loved.

With his hand still on her temple he leaned forward and kissed her softly on the lips.  A second, a breath, and it was over.  Meg didn't even get a chance to move.

It was a kiss that was composed more of compassion than of passion.  Never the less it left her breathless.  It was a kiss that gave, with no demand for return, a kiss of unconditional love.  She may not have been able to form a sentence, she may have been a mess with her hair in her eyes, she may have failed to fight of her attacker and protect herself or latter escape.  She may have failed at all these things she fully expected herself able to do.  But to him, it didn't matter.  All that mattered was that now she was safe.

"Fffine," she managed to say, she was still trembling, but she had found her voice.  "Iiiii'm Fffine."

He offered her a smile that told her he knew she wasn't.  For some reason she didn't mind.  "You're cold."  Fraser said as he slipped his leather jacket off and threw it over her shoulders.  It was remarkably warm and soft and it smelled like him.  She stopped trembling.

"We have to get you to a hospital."  He said as he rose to his feet.  Very gently, much more than was necessary, he pulled her up to her feet.  "Can you walk?"  He asked softly.  She was far too proud to say no.  But once they were trudging through the forest, with roots and branches and rocks sticking up just waiting to trip her, she found him having to almost catch her a hundred times.  Add to this the fact that she hadn't had a thing to eat or drink for nearly twenty-four hours and hadn't used her legs in nearly the same amount of time.  In the end Fraser ended up supporting most of her weight, she just struggled to move forward. 

When they reached the ten-meter radius Meg stopped dead in her tracks.

"What is it?"  Fraser asked.

"Traps," she said, hardly above a whisper.  "He was setting traps."

"He wasn't very good at it."  Fraser said, smiling ever so slightly.  "Do you see those Rocks?"  He nodded towards a net that contained a pile of Rocks not even partially hidden in the foliage.

"Yes."

"And, Do you see that rope?"

Meg followed his gaze to a rope that could only be the trigger.  "Yes."

"Can you step over it?"

"Yes."

They were careful to avoid the obvious rope as they walked forward, and Dief jumped over it with ease.  

***

Ray sat in the Riv for nearly Forty-five minutes before anything happened.  It was cold out and he had the heater and the Radio on.  At Eight he called his Ma to tell her that he wasn't dead and that he was going to come home eventually.  She sounded relived.   Other than that, the biggest highlight of his wait was finding five Beatles songs in a row while flipping channels.  It was one of those cosmic interplays that God throws in there every now and then to tell people that everything is going to be ok.  Even the songs themselves seemed to scream that he didn't need to worry.  It started with "Lady Madonna" and next came, "You've got to Hide You're Love Away" which was followed by "Help!" and accordingly "I get By with a little Help from my friends" followed that.  The end course of "Hard Day's Night" was still playing and Ray was about to change the channel and see if the Almighty was sending him any other messages when he was showered by the lights of three choppers.  "What the . . ."  He muttered as he looked up to the sky and watched the choppers land on the narrow rode cut out of the forest.  Before the blades stopped spinning agent Ford jumped out, yelling something at the top of his lungs.  He was closely followed by agent Deeder who yelled something into a walkie-talkie.

Ray decided that he should actually be a participant in this odd little scene and so got out of the Riv and angrily walked towards the two blundering agents.  "What the Hell is this?!" he demanded.  

"This is a rescue and retrieval unit."  Ford said, annoyance filling his voice.  

"A little bit of an over reaction, don't you think?"

Ford took a deep breath, as if he were talking to a child.  "As I understand it, Detective.  You knew about this kidnapping a full six hours before you reported it to you're superior officer."

"Do you ever find anything on your own, or do you always follow those with actual brains."

"You know," Ford said, an obvious strain in his voice.  "If anything at all happens to the woman . . ."

"She's an Inspector."  Ray corrected.

"The responsibility will fall squarely on you're head.  Do you know who she is?  Who her father is?"

"I know she's a person in trouble, and this may surprise you, but in my book, that's all that matters."  

Ford looked like he was about to really dig it into Ray, and there was no Welsh and no Fraser to hold either of them back, but Agent Deeder yelled.  "Movement at three o'clock!" Everyone's attention was turned to the edge of the woods, where through the trees you could barely see the outlines of a bounding white wolf and two stumbling Mounties.

"Get the Medics out there!"  Ford yelled, several decibels louder than was actually necessary.  

For Meg and Benny things suddenly became very confusing.  They were walking in the dark woods, Dief leading them presumably to safety.  Fraser was talking quietly to her, to keep her mind focused, keep her from thinking about how hungry and thirsty she was. Suddenly, they were inundated with bright lights and loud noises.  They were pulled apart from each other by what seemed like lots of hands, and although the voices were saying things like; "Just relax you're safe," and, "great job, finding her like that," both of them had to fight of shear panic.  It wasn't until Meg was actually hooked up to an I.V. and wrapped in a soft blanket that her brain was able to process everything that had happened.  She tried to find Fraser in the crowd of people she searched the faces and found nothing.   Finally, the drugs that the Medics had given her and the shear exhaustion of the whole situation overwhelmed her and she drifted off to sleep.

The End

(epilog pending) 


	12. epilog

**Epilog**

"We can't really get her a get well card."  Cimon said, as he followed his older brother to the hospital gift store.  The Thatcher family had arrived at the hospital before Meg did.  Presently all the doctors were giving her a once over.  The boys had been told that she was going to be fine, that there were no serious injuries and she just needed some time to recuperate, however no one said what she needed to recuperate from.  "She's not sick.  Do they have feel better cards?"

"I'm not thinking of a card for Aunt Meg."

"You just wanted to come her because . . ."

"We need to get a card for Constable Fraser."

"He's not sick either."

"A thank you."

Cimon nodded, very excited about the idea.  "Yha, I mean, if it weren't for him . . ."

"I don't want to think about it."  Will said almost forcefully.

"Right," Cimon nodded.  "Not happy thoughts."

***

Fraser sat in the waiting room examining his Stetson for nothing better to do.  He looked at the buckle and noticed it was smeared, he spun the hat in his hands and noticed the beginning of what might be a crack in it's leather lining.  He played with the brim looking for a weakness and not finding any.  All and all it was in wonderful shape.  Unlike him.

He couldn't help but feel guilty for what had happened.   It was blatantly obvious to everyone, even agent Ford, that Bear wouldn't have kidnapped Meg if she hadn't been connected to him.  (Of course those would be the details that Ford looked for).  Now, no one but Ray and Benny knew what kind of connections had dubbed her as pray, and Fraser couldn't figure out how Bear had known.  Maybe he had followed the Mountie around town, maybe he had pieced it together that night at the dinner, maybe he had just been dammed lucky.  In any event, it was clear the whole affair was Fraser's fault.

"That's Bullshit."  Ray said when the fact had been brought up in his presence.  "What did you do wrong?  Throw a boomerang?  Last I heard that wasn't a crime in Canada."

It wasn't a crime.  It wasn't a sin.  It wasn't irresponsible.  It wasn't inappropriate.  It wasn't even stupid.  But still that one simple action had somehow snowballed into the near death of Margaret Thatcher.  Fraser suddenly found himself desiring to talk to Lisa about it all.  

"Ah-hem," The thick voice of William Thatcher the first cut through the waiting room.  Fraser looked up, realized who was looking down on him, and then stood at attention, still holding his hat in his hand.

"Can I help you sir?"  Fraser asked, nervously.  The last few times he had seen the man had been less than pleasant for him.

"No son, you've done more than enough."  Fraser couldn't tell if that was a good or a bad thing.  "I just came to give you these."  Mr. Thatcher handed Benny both his plaid winter coat and his leather jacket.  

"Thank you sir."  Fraser stuttered.

"I was talking to FBI agent Ford.  A very attentive young man."

"If you say so."

"He told me that not only was it you're fault Margaret was kidnapped in the first place, but you also blundered the investigation and you involvement was totally unnecessary in the rescue attempt."

"He communicated those concerns to me as well sir, and --"

"But you see," Mr. Thatcher interrupted, a smile creeping slowly onto his lips.  "I've also been talking to Margaret."

"Is she alright, sir?"

"Lost the color in her cheeks, that's all.  And something like that is easy enough to regain."  Fraser thought that the older man was making light of the situation, but didn't say anything.  "Now I have to take everything she says with a grain of salt, you understand.  She was not entirely composed in the woods, and now at this hospital they have her on god only knows what kind of drugs.  But never the less I have gotten the distinct impression that--"  He looked down, he was smiling broadly, but didn't want Fraser to see that.  "--And this is not an easy thing to say, no matter how pleased I am to say it, but -- ."  He took a deep breath.  "--I was wrong about you, in the hotel."

"You were?"  Fraser didn't mean to sound like an idiot, but he didn't know what else to say.

"Yes.  But that is to stay between us."

"Naturally."

Her father looked up, he was wearing his genuine smile.  And Fraser tried to smile back, but didn't quite make it.  Never the less, her father patted him on the shoulder before walking off.

Fraser stood and watched the door swing shut behind the diplomat before deciding that he would be of more use to the inspector if he went home and got some sleep and was able to manage the consulate, and Turnbull's cheese factory emergency, tomorrow than if he stayed on the faint hope he would be able to see her.  He didn't even know what he would say if he was presented with the opportunity.

He sighed and looked at the two jackets in his hands.  It was cold out, very cold for September, but not cold enough to warrant his plaid jacket.  He started putting the leather one on when he noticed a something in the breast pocket.  He walked out of the hospital and towards his apartment, a mere seven miles away, with the coat in one hand, the jacket on only one arm and trying to scoop the foreign object out of his pocket.  Once that was accomplished he slipped the jacket on his other arm and actually looked at what he had found.  It was a white sealed envelope that had FRASER written on it in sketchy cursive.  He opened it up to see a regular greeting card with a picture of a snowscape on the cover.  On the inside was printed "Thanks for everything" and under it, in digressing levels of hand writing was signed William, Cimon, Xerxes, Leonidas, and Elly.    Fraser's smile didn't wear of for at least three days.

**The End**


End file.
